Even Though Its Breaking
by IceCliff
Summary: Modern Story. Christine is forever scarred from a fire and the murder of her father.When she finally meets Erik, he's not at all what she expected. However, Erik made a promise to a very special person. And now he must fulfill it. KayLerouxALW
1. Chapter 1

**Yes, well Hello. I am Authoress. I won't have an author's note for every chapter… probably just a quick hello… but since this is the first chapter I figure there are some important things I should state. **

**First: I love _The Phantom of the Opera_ and all things related… including books, the musical, and several of the other movies. Of course my preference for pairings is E/C… I wouldn't have it any other way although Raoul really isn't a bad guy. This is a modern story, which will take place in this year. My writing style is kind of funky… and at first the story may be a bit confusing and perhaps a bit slow… but I urge you to continue reading! I love phantom and I love writing so it's a perfect mix! I only wish to please! And to receive reviews! **

**My characters may be OOC but mostly I like to keep them in character. (I try). My Erik will undoubtedly be a bit OOC for reasons that shall be explained in the story! Anyways…. If anyway of you actually bothered to read that…! **

**Without further ado, Here Is My Story:**

"_You are a very smart child." He looked down upon the boy who sat next to him near the violin. "You will amount to great things."_

_The boy looked up at him with wisdom beyond his years. "That's not what she says. And isn't she supposed to say that? Isn't she?"_

"_Perhaps." The man said thoughtfully. "But I am telling you that you will bring the world to its feet one day. You are- for lack of a better word- a genius."_

_The boy's face twisted into a strange smile. "I'd love to spread my- as you put it- genius. I'd teach the world—" the boy's smile faded "I'd teach the world if they'd let me."_

_The man, not stupid himself, caught the underlying sadness etched into the child's words. "I believe you would Erik. I believe you would."_

**Concord, New Hampshire, 2000**

Christine Daae looked fondly at her piano. Here, glowing softly in the candlelight, who would have noticed the blood? Who would have seen the knife hilt, its cold hard surface forever tainting the innocent piano? Christine inched forward, her candle wavering slightly as her ragged breath passed it in short bouts.

There. It was hard to see in the lighting; perhaps that's why she did it. There, tarnishing the beautiful ivory keys, the crimson blood shone darkly. Christine cringed. Why? Why destroy something so innocent with something so dark, so incredibly _wrong_?

Christine called out into the night, "Why?" And there was no answer but her own anguished echo. Of course the room had perfect acoustics. Christine took one last forlorn look at the ruined piano before blowing out her candle.

A soft 'whoosh' left Christine in complete darkness. It enfolded her, surrounded her in a billowy blanket of blind trust. She didn't trust the dark at all. But for now, it protected her. Tears began to fall down her face, tracing small lines of day-old mascara down her pale face.

She mourned the death of innocence- the death of music. The piano- her sweet, blameless, pure piano. It was tainted forever. Her music was dirty- it had blood on it. Yes, the piano could be washed off; it could be polished so it would look as good as new. But Christine knew- the piano's soul was diminished, once part of the darkness, there's no returning- and she grieved.

**6 Years Later Carmel, California**

"Chrissie! _Chrissie!_ Get down here right now!"

I leaned over the banister. Below me, Meg was attempting to calm Shadow. It was a lost cause. Shadow has always been a lively dog- he was currently jumping at the walls, trying to catch the moving lights splayed against them by the ocean's waves. I couldn't resist smirking as I leaned against the top of the staircase.

Meg glared up at me. "You're not going to help me are you?"

"No." I descended the stairs. "We agreed. He is your dog."

"Yes, but-" Shadow jumped at Meg and nearly knocked her over. I raised an eyebrow. "But-" Meg sputtered helplessly, "You named him!"

I sighed, shook my head, and laid a tentative hand on the dog's head.

"Very observant of you Meg." I said, and the dog let out a small yelp before settling into my embrace. I had indeed named him. It had seemed so appropriate when I had first seen the puppy, his fur silky black and his spots a murky gray.

"But if I remember, you were the one who wanted a pet."

"Yeah… but you don't have to be so detached about it. See, he likes you!"

"Yes." I said absently, before scooping Shadow into my arms and carrying him over to his basket. It wasn't that I didn't want to take care of her pet. It was just that- Shadow was her pet and I didn't want to taint him. God knows I've done enough of _that_ already.

"Chrissie!" I cringed as Meg's voice adopted a whine. "You know you love Shadow! Why don't you ever help me with him?"

"Because he's yours." I strolled into the kitchen. "What would you like for dinner?" I asked, pulling on one of the few aprons I had left lying around.

"Chrissie-"

"I could make pasta, unless you want something else. Stir fry maybe?"

Meg glared at me for a second before sinking down into one of the fashionable wooden chairs at the dining table. "Yes fine." She said dejectedly. "Pasta. But we're not done with this conversation."

"There's nothing else to discuss Meg." I said, placing the pot of water on the stove. I turned to face her. "Shadow is-"

"My pet." She said, nodding, "and this is my house. And I let you live here because you are my best friend and I love you. And as long as you live here, Shadow is your family also."

I turned from her and busied myself with opening to box of pasta. _Family_, she had said. What a strange word. It sounded funny on my tongue. What family did I have? Did she want to include me in that sacred word? A family?

"Thank you Meg," I poured the pasta into the boiling water and added a few of my favorite spices. _Family._

I didn't quite believe her. But at the moment, it was the most delicious lie I had ever heard. And I ate it greedily.

After dinner, Meg retired to her room, and I wandered out into the living room where Shadow slept.

"Family." I whispered into the room, and the only response I heard was the lapping of the ocean a few blocks away. I looked out the window. I hadn't seen the ocean for a while.

"Meg!" I called upstairs. I heard a muffled grunt of a reply. "I'm going out."

I grabbed a windbreaker from the hook near the door and slammed it shut behind me.

The wind hit me before I expected it. It was cold, and the sun had already set behind the waves. I started down the stairs of Meg's house and made my way down the avenue towards the ocean. Stars were just starting to glitter above me, and the moon had already taken her seat at her throne. Darkness was just beginning to settle around me, and I couldn't help the memories that started to resurface.

I had found him in the music room. He was still, his back was turned to me, but then, at 15, I still been so naïve. I hadn't thought anything of it. I called his name, and he didn't answer. I figured he must have been sleeping.

I never understood why my father had been murdered. He had been a violinist. He had never dealt with drugs or liquor or done anything to anger anyone. The murderer was never caught. The police said there were no fingerprints left on the knife. When I had moved, they asked if I wanted to take the piano with me.

I left it there, along with my soul. My music had left me that night my father had been killed. He had been the only one to ever accept me. It had been that year, when I was 15, that I had first met Richard, and I first discovered how evil human beings could be. My dad had helped me through it. After the fire, he had been my only friend. He had accepted me. He knew that I was still the same, even if I didn't look it.

So I had taken his violin with me in my wild flee across the country, my desperate attempt to forget and move on. And I found myself in California, and then I began high school and rented a small apartment with the money my dad had left me. I knew exactly where his violin and his music were; locked in the closet I never dared open. I couldn't face music. I couldn't see that violin, so innocently lying there, knowing that I had betrayed me father, and my very soul.

And then there was the ever-present Erik. He had become almost like a myth, a god almost. My father would always mention Erik, his prized student, the genius of music. My father would tell me stories about him until my head would spin, and I would build up a picture of this Erik, this perfect man. My father believed in Erik. He told me that if I ever needed help, if I was ever alone, that I should search out Erik, and he would help me. My father said he would understand. I didn't believe that. I didn't know if Erik even existed, and if he did, I doubted that he would remember the time he spent with Gustave Daae.

I looked out upon the rolling waves of the ocean. Nighttime wasn't so bad. Here, in the dark, people couldn't see me. If they knew I was here, I was simply a girl, yearning to be accepted, searching for the music I knew I had lost forever. I took off one shoe and sank down onto the beach, savoring the feeling of the cool sand underneath my feet.

I sometimes came off as cynical, that I knew. And now, at 21 years old, I had a business going. I was the head of my department at the contracting company, where I had met Meg six years ago, and she had offered to take me in. I knew that she was one of the few good people left in the world.

Still, she had never seen all of me. I don't think I'll ever show anyone again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Yay. A second chapter. I'd like to thank _the Mouse in the Opera House_ for writing this story's first review! Yay! I agree with your profile ("**good, non-horror, no-sex-before-they're-married, anything-but-RC-or-EM phics.**") **

**There were some things I forgot to mention last chapter, some being that this story will be based on both books, as well as have some elements from the 2004 movie. And also, I take Erik's last name from the (as someone so graciously told me) Englund version. **

**Uh… this story will be quite confusing for a while but you should read it anyway! And I appreciate all sorts of reviews… any shape or size… I suppose to some extent I'll accept flames… because if my work it really that bad you should tell me!**

**Anyway... on to chapter two!**

_The violin music faded into silence and the teenager immediately perked up. _

"_Of course I'd like a piano harmonization halfway through the second verse. And the horns pick up in the fourth measure of the-"_

"_Erik." The man laid a hand on his shoulder. He took a deep breath, the remnants of the teenager's music still coursing through him. "Erik, sit down."_

_The teenager frowned. "Was it bad?"_

_The man gave a startled laugh. "Bad? No, for God's sake, I don't think anything you write could be bad. That was frankly amazing. The breadth of emotion you've captured in a simple violin piece is breathtaking."_

"_Thank you." _

_The man nodded. "Are there lyrics?"_

_Erik frowned again. "Yes. But I'd prefer that you not hear them."_

"_Of course. I will respect your wishes." A small smile appeared on the man's face. "You know my daughter sings. She has a sweet little voice. She might like your music. If you ever need someone to sing, I'm sure she'd be delighted."_

"_What is her range?"_

"_She's a soprano. Erik? Erik, where are you going?" The man called after the teenager._

_Erik had already grabbed his pen and his music, and began to alter the lyrics to fit a soprano's voice._

* * *

"Ms. Daae?" The small, timid intern poked her head into my office. 

"Yes?" I asked irritably, and the girl jumped three feet. I sighed. I hated scaring people. "Yes, what is it?"

"I- I have the paper you wanted." She stood in the threshold of my office.

"Well come in." I snapped, and she nodded, took three long strides towards my desk and dropped the blue folder in front of me.

I leafed through it. "Hmm." I came across one particular company. "What's this?"

"Oh." The girl, who's name on the front of her tag was Tami, frowned. "I couldn't find much about them. It seems to be two people. One architect and his… assistant."

"Two people? This man builds buildings by himself?"

"Apparently. All I could find was a phone number and an address."

"I want you to find some building he's designed in the recent past." With that I dismissed her and bent my head towards my work. In a flash she was out of my office. I looked up towards the closed door and saw the blinking light on my phone.

I pressed it. "What is it Meg?"

"A call just came in for you from Mr. Tater." Her voice over the intercom was crackly. "He wants to know if you will be attending his masquerade ball."

"His what?"

I could hear Meg sigh on the other end. "I'll tell you about it." She said, and the line went dead.

A few seconds later my door opened and Meg appeared with two coffees.

"Now you just want a raise." I muttered in way of thanks. I drained the dark liquid and felt it soothing all of my frayed nerve endings.

Meg let out a short laugh.

"Tell me about this ball."

"Right," she said, laying her paper cup down on my desk. "Do you remember Arnold Tater? He was the one who built the Opera House."

I felt my brow furrow. "The small, timid man, who never gave me straight answers?"

"That's the one."

"Hmm. What does he want?"

Meg held up a flyer that had been faxed to the office. "He's holding a masquerade in honor of the Opera's grand opening. He's invited the entire office."

"Has he?" I asked, taking the flyer from her outstretched hand.

It had been an odd job, building the Opera House. Mr.Tater never directly answered any of my questions, but always said that he would get back to me, as if there were someone else he had to consult. I knew that this was probably untrue, as anyone who had the genius to build something like that would not put a fool like Mr. Tater in his place. But still, I had a hard time believing that the Opera House was his work. The building had such an eloquent beauty to it, a musical quality to the very walls that seemed so appropriate to a building that was made to worship music. I had, of course, been partial to the idea of the building, because I loved music and simply could not stay away. I had been extremely impressed with the outcome and was looking forward to seeing the Opera House again.

"Well then, tell him we will be attending."

Meg looked faintly surprised, which annoyed me. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm quite sure." I slipped back into my snappish mood of a few seconds ago. Meg raised her eyebrows. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bite your head off. Yes, the office will go. You can tell the interns."

"Okay. But Chrissie… I was talking about you. Are you sure you want to go?"

I felt my eyes narrow. "Why wouldn't I?"

I knew I was making her uncomfortable. We had never directly discussed it, and I was challenging her. "I-" Meg faltered. "I just thought…. I mean… the… the burns…"

My eyes widened, and I felt my temper flare. "Get out of my office."

"Chrissie I-"

"Out! Leave me alone!" I practically pushed her out the door. I turned my back to the door and slid down onto the floor, burying my face in my hands.

I felt the first tear, cold and slick, run down my face, and I knew I was done for. I had never directly told Meg the problem, and I had never shown her. She must have seen one night when I was getting out of the shower. I wiped my eyes. I didn't know exactly what was bothering me. Perhaps it was her calm mention of the burns, or the fact that she was still my friend even after she had seen them.

The fire had been the same year of my father's death. It had spread across half the neighborhood before the Fire Department was able to put it out. My father and I had escaped, but I had never been the same. My clothes were on fire. My entire shirt had caught fire, and I remember hearing faint shouts telling me to 'stop, drop, and roll' or to take off my shirt. The last thing I remember before the hospital was a fireman rushing me into an ambulance.

I had woken up in a white, tranquil room, compared to the red, raging chaos of the fire. A nurse bustled in a few minutes after and nodded when she saw me. She then proceeded to tell me, ever so kindly of course, that I was completely fine, except that I had inhaled a lot of smoke and had retained bad burns from the fire. She left, and I tentatively examined underneath the bandaging on my chest and neck.

The first time I saw it, I admit to being repulsed, scared even. I couldn't believe that it was my own skin! The skin I had been born with, that I had lived in for so many years, taken care of to no end- it was hideous! They were not just burns as the nurse had told me so calmly, no these were 3rd degree burns that would probably _never_ go away, and if they did they would leave terrible scarring.

By then I had already known Richard as my first boyfriend. He was sweet, funny, and everything I though I wanted at 15. He visited me at the hospital, but I refrained from telling him about the burns. What a mistake _that_ turned out to be.

"Chrissie?" I heard tentative knocking outside my door.

I didn't reply. I had never actually told Meg to call me Chrissie, but when she started to do it I was flattered. Having a nickname meant belonging.

I stood up, brushed myself off, and straightened out my turtleneck. In an instant I had become a cold businesswomen once more.

I opened the door. "Yes, Meg?" She seemed taken aback by my cold, indifferent manner.

"Tami got that information for you."

"Excellent. May I have it?" Meg nodded, and I followed her outside towards her desk.

"Here." She said. "She found out that Mr. Destler and Mr. Khan have worked together for at least six years, and they formed their organization about four years ago. They have only the one branch here in Carmel. And, strange as it seems, they appear to be the only employees."

"Interesting." I muttered. "What have they done?"

Meg pulled a picture from the folder. "It was the only one Tami could find, although if you look closely at the masonry I swear I've seen that design before, in several more famous buildings."

I tuned out her rambling as I stared at the picture in my hands. It was the perfect, most beautiful building I had ever seen. It was the exact type of design that I wanted my branch associated with.

"Did you say you had an address for these people?"

* * *

"Mr. Khan, you have a visitor." The secretary announced me through the closed door, and I waited for the mysterious architects to appear. 

"Oh?" I heard a muffled voice from inside the office, and the door opened to reveal a Middle-Eastern man with a large smile on his face.

"Hello."

"Hello," I said, holding my hand out for him. "My name is Christine Daae, I work for Diamond Contracting. I was wondering if I could have a moment of your time?"

"Of course." He said, ushering me into the office and closing the door behind me. I glanced around and frowned, not seeing the other man. I had hoped to catch both of them.

"Is Mr. Destler not in?" I inquired.

Mr. Khan seemed amused. "Excuse me?"

"Mr. Destler? Isn't he your partner?"

"Oh, ah…" He glanced around the office. "I don't know if Mr. Destler would be able to-"

"Don't finish that sentence Nadir."

A deep voice came from a side door that I hadn't even noticed. A tall man walked towards me.

"Hello."

I blinked. No it wasn't the voice. Well, it wasn't only the voice. He had to be the most beautiful man I had ever laid eyes on. I hated him.

He was one of those people who know they're good looking. He had one of those arrogant smirks of a guy who knows he's completely charmed you. I hated his angelic voice and his gorgeous eyes set in a perfect face. I hated the way he looked at me, as though he knew all the unfaithful thoughts running through my head.

I suppose it wasn't his fault that he was gorgeous. But I hated him all the same. I always despised people who got what they wanted, and it was clear he was one of them. I knew that at one point in my life I had been like that, but I was past that. I had learned that beauty was not always on the outside, and I had learned the hard way. And I hated people who took outer beauty for granted.

I smiled the fakest smile I've ever put on. "Hello. You must be Mr. Destler."

I did not put out my hand, and to my surprise, he did not offer his. He simply nodded.

"And you are?" I tried to avoid his eyes. They were gold and appraising, and at the same time held a tinge of green that I found remarkably beautiful and utterly annoying.

"Christine-"

The moonlight sonata exploded into the room and I reached for my bag. "Excuse me," I said, rummaging through the tote, "that must be my cell phone…"

The music stopped and I heard Mr. Destler greet the person on the other line.

I blinked. The moonlight sonata had always been my favorite song. It was strange that this man I hated on instinct liked it too.

"Yes, alright." He said into the phone with a hint of ire. He snapped his phone closed and I heard him muttering something about 'ignorant fools.'

"What is it?" Mr. Khan was listening to Mr. Destler's muttering in a bemused way.

"Its those- _morons_- at the Opera House! I-" He glanced at me, and I could feel my eyebrows raising. "Excuse me." He said irritably, and then took his leave through the large wooden doors at the opposite end of the office.

Mr. Khan sighed. "You'll have to excuse him."

"What connection do you have with the Opera House?" I asked, interested. "My company was involved with its building."

"Oh…" Mr. Khan looked slightly nervous. "Yes, well, what did you want to discuss?"

I was taken aback by the blatant change of subject, but I let it slide. "I wanted to ask for your help with a new project that we are attempting. What I've seen of your work is genius. I was wondering if the two of you would be interested in a merge. You'd be the permanent architect…"

I trailed off for the look and Mr. Khan's face. Merge was obviously not a word that sat well with him.

"Merge? I don't know… I'd have to ask Mr. Destler, but I don't think he'd agree to a _merge_…"

"Don't think of it as I merge!" I urged him. "Simply a… symbiosis if you will. I'm sure you need contractors, and I need a new architect. Please think on it!" I didn't want to debase myself by begging, but I needed these two architects- no matter how much I detested Mr. Destler in all his perfection, they were brilliant.

"Yes," Mr. Khan said grimly. " I'll think about it. Please leave your number, Ms. Daae."

"Thank you Mr. Khan."

**Yay. I'm so excited. I like this chapter although there's not enough Christine insight… that's okay! Hee hee… it has a very important twist that I hope you all caught! Anyway, leave a review!**

**IceCliff**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks for the reviews! **

**I'm so excited about this story…. And I have Break so I can write forever!**

**Just one note about the flashbacks at the beginning of every chapter… they skip from age to age… so the first one he was quite young, and the second one he was a teenager, and this one he is younger again.**

"_Its over. Its all over."_

"_Try to write it in your music." The man suggested, attempting to calm down the crying child._

_He thrashed about almost violently. "I can't. I can't! Let go of me!" The boy drew up into himself, burying his head in his hands. "She's gone…. Why do I care so much! She hated me…"_

"_She didn't hate you Erik-"_

"_She did! She couldn't even be bothered to give me a name!"_

_The man hesitated. It wasn't his business to pry into his student's private life, but Erik was a special case. Erik had always been a special case._

"_What was she like, your mother?"_

_Erik stiffened. He hadn't been expecting the question. "She was beautiful. She was religious. She was kind. But never to me. No, never to me." The boy stood up and turned away from the man, his voice deathly quiet and eerie. "And now she is gone. I can't ever go back and change what has happened. She didn't love me. She was beautiful." _

"_Erik, have you any family to go to?"_

"_I don't believe I've ever had family to go to."_

_The man paused again, surprised at the enigmatic way the young boy held himself. He seemed much older than he was. "You must stay with me." The man said decisively. _

_Erik looked up at him. "Are you positive? Are you positive you want to house a monst-"_

"_Genius. Yes, I'm quite sure. Goodnight my boy."_

Raoul de Chagny smiled a perfect mouthful of white teeth back at me from the cover of the local newspaper. He was quite popular with the local news lately. I had also seen him appear on the local cable stations. The particular article I was reading was about his latest triumph in the surfing competition in San Diego. He was returning home to Carmel in time to make his appearance at the Masquerade Ball (which, to my utter annoyance, happened to be tomorrow) as the town's surfing hero. The picture had him sporting a pair of blue swim shorts, holding his white board up next to him.

He was one of those clichéd guys that girls swoon over. Meg was no different. She found his blond hair quite irresistible.

"And look at those _gorgeous_ eyes!" She paused the tape of the news that she had recorded, much to my bemusement. I couldn't keep back a snort.

"Yes, and his _marvelous_ nose. Oh, Meg I can hardly keep back my excitement."

Meg ignored my sarcasm. "I can't believe he's coming back tomorrow! I'm so glad we're going to the masquerade." Her eyes suddenly went wide. She grasped my shirtsleeve in a surprisingly strong grip. "Chrissie!" She squealed, "We don't have outfits! We need outfits!"

I rolled my eyes. "Then let's go to the mall. I'm sure we can find something."

Meg was barely listening to me. She had gotten up off the couch and was pacing the living room, mumbling to herself.

"Yes, the mall. And I'll have to decide what to do with my hair… I suppose I'll wear red lipstick… but my old tube ran out. We'll have to stop by the MAC counter…. Chrissie!" I jumped. "You'll have to let me do you hair and your makeup. Oh, you'll look incredible. I can just imagine it now!"

"Yes." I said grimly, "I can hardly wait. Lets get to the mall."

Meg squealed again, and I felt incline to question her sanity as we entered the car.

Meg feigned a hurt look. "I'm completely sane. I don't know about you. You must be the only girl in this county who isn't attracted to Raoul de Chagny."

I snorted, but didn't recognize the comment with a reply. Personally, I felt that you'd have to be daft to like Raoul. He seemed like a dumb athlete. The comments he gave to the press were surprisingly dull and obsolete. But he was something like a celebrity in Carmel- maybe Meg wanted a piece of the action.

The mall was crowded for a Thursday night. Most of the people seemed to wander aimlessly, as if they had no life.

I said as much to Meg, who frowned at me. "They have lives Chrissie. Its not their fault you're a recluse and don't realize the joys of the mall."

Being the hermit that I am, I allowed her to drag me into the first dress store she saw. She had apparently decided that I would go to the ball as a princess.

"What are you going as?" I asked as she examined a sleeveless scarlet dress.

She returned the dress to the rack and smiled wickedly. "A devil."

"Good luck with that one." I pulled out a long-sleeved blue dress with lace on the front.

"This?"

Meg shook her head furiously. "No."

A long-sleeved cream dress with roses on the front. "Absolutely not."

A sparkly black dress with pink polka dots. "Chrissie you can't be serious."

I shrugged, and Meg plucked the dress from my fingertips. "There is no way I'm allowing you to be seen in this."

"Whats wrong with it?"

"Just shut up and let me pick the outfit."

"Fine." I muttered. "We'll see about that pay raise."

"Chrissie!"

I was silent as I searched through the rack of dresses. My ears were ravaged by a loud squeal. Meg was on the way to becoming a squealing fool.

"This is perfect, Chrissie, this is _it_!"

I turned, and I felt my blood run cold. The dress was beautiful of course, with its sweetheart neckline and golden lace designs. It was a perfectly honest mistake, one I'm sure she didn't even realize. Still, I couldn't help the ice that seeped into my voice.

"You know I can't wear _that_."

Meg blinked at my tone, and then her eyes widened and she dropped the dress.

"Oh," She hastily turned away from me. "_Oh_."

"Yes, oh." I said bitterly, pulling a high collared halter-top from the rack. "I'll wear this." My voice was still relatively cold, and I'm sure I detected a shiver from Meg. "I'll find a pair of long gloves." I turned from her, walking across the store to the accessories isle.

I couldn't help feeling bitter. Anyone else could have worn something beautiful like that, something attractive, but no, not me. I couldn't show my chest or my neck for fear of someone shrieking in terror at my horrible skin. It wasn't fair, and I couldn't help feeling resentful towards Meg, who had unintentionally reminded me of my predicament.

Meg met me at the cash register, and neither of us spoke until we were several stores away.

"I'm going to need some makeup." Meg said quietly.

"Hmm." I stopped near the convenience store. "I'll buy us some masks, and then I'll meet you at the store, alright?"

Meg nodded sadly. "Chrissie I-"

"Good, lets do it."

"_Christine_." Meg grabbed my arm, and I stopped, surprised to hear my full name fall from her lips.

"Christine this is getting ridiculous. You have to talk about it sometime."

"I'll talk about it," I said harshly, pulling my sleeve from her grasp, "when I feel good and ready."

"When will that be?" Meg questioned me relentlessly. "You know it doesn't make any difference to me, Christine. Its just skin."

"Meg, you are one of the few people in this world who feel that way."

"Christine, _come on_. Its just a little bit deformed-"

"A little deform- you know what, this is ridiculous. I don't have to explain myself to you. Here." I tossed her my keys. She looked at me incredulously. "I'll take a cab home later. I need some time to think."

With that, I stalked off. I had no intention of staying inside the infernal building any longer, so I took the first exit I saw. I walked along the sidewalk until I reached the beach. I sank down onto the cool sand and laid down on my back, looking up into the darkening blue sky.

What was it she had called it? '_Just a little bit deformed_?' The girl was too innocent for her own good. How could she even begin to understand? Meg was beautiful. How would she understand the loss of beauty? I had learned that beauty was fleeting- it budded, and then wilted and died. It meant nothing in the long run, but I had also found that so many people in the world couldn't comprehend that. Society was vain. It had a strict model for beauty and if you didn't conform, you didn't have a hope of being accepted.

I, of course, had no choice. I lived in California, but I couldn't stalk around the streets wearing a bikini because I was deformed. I couldn't wear the tunics that were at the height of fashion because I was ugly.

I felt long overdue tears being to well up in my eyes.

"_Back, foolish tears, back to your native spring!_"

I felt like snorting as the old verse came back to me. Juliet had a point. I had so much I could offer the world. One would be hard pressed to find a piece of literature I had not read. I loved talking about politics and world issues. I loved learning new things. I loved music! But no one could see the person I was. No one could see I was more than just skin!

I had long since accepted my fate. My poor blistered skin would forever be a repellent. People like Meg were compassionate, yes, but it didn't hide the revulsion on their faced when they saw the deformity.

"Miss Daae?"

"Huh?" I sat straight up and found myself looking into the green eyes of Mr. Khan. "Oh." I put a hand to my forehead, feeling slightly woozy. I had sat up much to fast.

I felt a hand close around my upper arm.

"Here." He helped me to my feet.

"Thank you." I muttered, brushing sand off my clothes.

Mr. Khan smiled. He was dressed in a jogging suit, and had an Ipod attached to his waist.

"You jog here often?" I had nothing better to say.

"Yes. I find it quite beautiful." He began walking again and I followed him.

"I hadn't expected to see you here, Miss Daae."

I decided to take the initiative. "Please, call me Christine. Since we are going to be working together anyway…."

Mr. Khan stopped and frowned. "Oh, yes. About that."

"Please. We'd do great work together."

"I just don't know. Mr. Destler is a very private man. He's very protective of his work. I wouldn't want to make any decisions for him. You'd best discuss it with him."

"Hmm." Talking with Arrogance Personified didn't appeal to me. "When would I be able to arrange and appointment with him?" But I'd have to do it anyway.

Mr. Khan raised one dark eyebrow. "You're very persistent Miss Daae."

"Christine. And yes, I want my business to excel. And I know that with the two of you, it will."

"Thanks for the compliment. I suppose you could meet with Mr. Destler the day after tomorrow."

"Thank you Mr. Khan-"

"However, I should warn you about Mr. Destler. Flattery will certainly not hook him."

"I'll be on my guard." I looked out across the horizon, which was now exploding with reds and oranges of the setting sun.

"I should be going. I'll see you again, Mr. Khan."

"Yes. And my name is Nadir." Hah. I've softened him up.

"Goodbye, Nadir." I started up the large sand dune that divided the beach and the sidewalk. My work was done for the night.

I felt a vague sense of accomplishment. I certainly had Nadir Khan on my side. Now all I needed was Mr. Destler and my business would take off.

"Oof." For the second time that night, I found myself looking into a pair of green eyes. But these were set in a face I had hardly expected to see, and especially not so close.

"I'm sorry." A hand was held out to me. I grasped it and Raoul de Changy stood in front of me in all his surfing glory.

"Raoul de Changy."

He smiled. "You know my work."

I couldn't help a snort. "You are quite popular."

"I'm just glad I'm popular with you."

"That's a very presumptuous comment, Mr. De Chagny. I said I knew who you were. I never said I was a fan."

His smile got even wider. "I'll have to work on you, then. What did you say your name was?" The man was even worse than I thought.

"I didn't. Its Christine."

"Beautiful name." Oh, here we go. He was exactly the way I had imagined him. He was just an arrogant athlete who wanted a bit of fun for the night.

"I have to go."

His eyes twinkled. "I hope I'll see you again."

_I wouldn't count on it. _"Of course."

"Maybe we could get together for dinner sometime before I leave for Florida again."

_Over my dead body. _"Maybe."

"Great!" The idiot didn't get it. "I'll see you later. Good night."

"Yes, good night Raoul."

The surfer walked on, and I stayed a bit under the fading light of the street lamp. I looked to the moon for a moment, and then I walked towards Meg's house. I stood at the large, uninviting wooden door.

I didn't want to face Meg. I really, really didn't.

But it seems that I didn't have a choice. The door opened and a pair of arms came around to hug me.

"Oh Christine, I'm so sorry!"

I closed the door behind me and awkwardly hugged her back.

"Its alright Meg," I said softly.

"Chrissie I was so mean to you." She pulled back to look me in the eyes. "Are you sure its okay?"

"Yes, Meg, come off it. I'm fine."

"Great!" She said giddily. "I can't wait for the ball tomorrow!"

"Hmmm. I can." I brushed past her and made my way up the mahogany staircase. I didn't want to talk to Raoul again, but I knew for a fact that he was going to be at the ball.

I sighed dejectedly, and entered my room. I felt somewhat lost, and my gaze traveled to the wooden closet at the other end of the room. I stared at it for a long time, wondering what I would find if I looked to music for comfort once more.

I turned my back on the closet and turned out my light.

**I don't know. Strange chapter. Somewhat of a filler. I have no opinion of this chapter. Its somewhat annoying.**

**Review… although I wouldn't blame you if you didn't because I think this chapter is somewhat useless. But maybe you don't. Tell me what you think!**


	4. Chapter 4

**I'm still concerned about the last chapter and how much I didn't like it. But it was a necessary chapter to set up the plot.**

**Anyway, here's the next chapter… this one has more Erik action (yay) and more Raoul action (no comment).**

**So yes… I bring you the Masquerade Ball! Chapter Four!**

"_Good afternoon Erik." The man entered the sanctuary of music, and the teenager sitting at the piano desk turned to him._

"_Mr. Daae, may I ask you something?"_

"_Of course."_

_Erik hesitated. "You know that story you always tell your daughter? The one- the one about the Angel of Music?"_

_The man smiled. "Yes, what of it?"_

"_I…" Erik suddenly went silent, and turned away from the man._

"_Erik?" Mr. Daae prompted. "What is it?"_

_His voice was nothing more than a whisper. "Would you tell me that story?"_

_Mr. Daae smiled. "Of course. Although one would think you already knew it."_

"_Why?" Erik looked up at the man curiously._

"_Because, my boy. I believe you _are_ the Angel of Music."_

I watched from the balcony as the guests arrived. Some of them were dressed quite expensively, with satin gloves and fur coats and diamonds hanging off their necks. Others were simply dressed in costume, as is appropriate for a Masquerade Ball.

Meg had left me the moment we entered. She had seen some of her old friends from high school and had gone to catch up with them.

However, I was somewhat grateful for the solitude. The night air was pleasantly chilly around my bare legs and my face. I could hear faint music drifting up towards me from inside the Opera House, where happy people danced on the wooden floors with their partners. It was something that had always bothered me about dances. I never seemed to have a partner.

I heard a commotion below me and looked down to see Raoul getting out of his car. Several blinding flashes went off and a few reporters crowded around him. Behind him, I saw a sleek black car approaching the Opera House. It stopped behind Raoul's white Cadillac, and two dark figures stepped out. One I instantly dubbed to be Nadir Khan. He was wearing brightly colored Middle Eastern clothing with a turban on his head. He wore a scarlet red mask that covered the whole of his face.

The man on the other side of him paused before the door of the Opera House. Suddenly he lifted his face up to where I was standing and, although I drew back into the shadows, I'm quite sure he saw me. His brilliant gold eyes shone for a moment as he watched me, and then he entered the building.

I frowned as I watched the gang of reporters slowly dissolved and Raoul walked into the building as well. Mr. Destler was one of the few guests who had come without a mask. His attire consisted of a deep red shirt, a pair of black pants with black leather boots, and a sword that hung off the side of his belt. I couldn't understand the strange absence of the mask. Was he so arrogant that he felt he shouldn't cover up? Even Raoul was wearing a mask.

"Good evenin' Miss." I turned sharply to see one of the waiters standing at the door to the balcony.

The man smiled at me. "I didn't mean to scare yah." His accent was clearly southern, although I couldn't place it past that. "Its just- yah should know that the ceremony's 'bout to start."

"Ceremony?"

"Yes, Miss. Mr.Tater's givin' his speech an' everything. All the guests are supposed to be inside."

"Oh." I could feel myself blushing. "I'm sorry, I didn't know. I'll- I'll be inside in a moment."

"Alright, Miss."

The waiter left and I looked back to the night sky. The few stars I could see were faint and weak. The glare of lights from inside the Opera House made the moon seem paler too. I sighed and walked inside with a swirl of my dress. I put my mask on and tried not to think of the continued loss of beauty in the world.

I spotted Mr. Tater ambling towards the podium and sat down dejectedly on the first chair I saw. I had heard the man make speeches before. They were often long-winded and boring.

"I suppose you felt no need to ask if that chair was taken," an amused angel's voice said.

I turned quickly to see Mr. Destler and Mr. Khan sitting at the other end of the table, watching me.

"Oh, excuse me. I just saw the chair… I mean… I didn't… I-" I stopped blabbering, and inwardly reprimanded myself for stuttering. What was so intimidating about this man that made me so uncomfortable around him? _Lets see… his looks, his voice, his genius…_

"Its quite all right." Nadir said, and I felt immensely charitable towards our newfound friendship. "The seat wasn't taken."

I smiled at him. "Thank you." I looked to Mr. Destler, who gaze had not wavered from my face since his first comment. I could feel myself blushing, but forced my eyes to meet his.

"Have you decided on my offer, Mr. Destler?"

The way he was watching me was almost infuriating. His face was curiously neutral, completely free of expression. His eyes were unreadable too, although I detected a slight raise of one perfectly shaped eyebrow.

"Yes."

"And?"

"Yes."

I felt my face lighten. "Wonderful!" I had to suppress an uncharacteristic giggle.

I held out my hand to shake his, and he looked at it curiously.

"I'm so excited we'll be working together, Mr. Destler. This will really benefit us both, I'm sure-"

His hand grasped mine and our eyes looked in a shocking meeting of brown on gold.

It had only been a few seconds of his flesh against mine, but when he pulled back my hand tingled furiously. I could feel another blush coming on as I took my hand back into my lap.

His eyes were on me again, but I turned away from the table as I heard Mr. Tater asking for attention. I cradled my hand in the other, the feel of his flesh against mine still present. His hand had been large and his fingers curiously large, like a musicians hand. But the feel of it was an entirely new sensation, something I could hardly explain. His hand had been eerily cold, but at the same time left an odd sensation of heat as he drew it away. It was a complete enigma, yet it seemed to suit him in a way I couldn't explain.

Mr. Tater began to drone, and I wished I could think of something interesting to say to either of the men behind me.

Mr. Destler did the favor for me. "If you want to observe people, the balcony is not the best place to do it."

I twisted in my chair to look at him, and felt some of that old instinctive dislike rise up again. "Oh?"

"Yes." He seemed completely unfazed by my coldness. "In fact, I think you'll find that the roof gives you a better panoramic view of the town and the streets below the Opera."

He was so insufferable. He thought that he could give me advice on places to go in the Opera House? For God sakes, I _built_ the Opera House!

"Is that so Mr. Destler?"

"Quite."

"Tell me," I began coolly, "how it is that you know so much about this Opera House, when you had nothing to do with it?"

His eyes sought mine again, but I refused to fall into them. I stared back at him defiantly.

"I know more than you think."

It was a blatant sidestep of my question, and I felt my face flushing in anger.

"Mr. Destler-"

"Christine, I believe your friend is asking for you."

"What…?" I turned to look at Nadir, whose eyes were pleading with me to stop.

"Oh…" I searched the room for Meg, but couldn't find her anywhere.

"I…"

"What did you say your name was?" His voice was quiet and almost a whisper, but his tone was sharp and harsh.

I thought it was an odd question. I had told him my name the first time we met in his office. "Christine."

His golden gaze held me frozen for a moment. His face still held that neutrality that bothered me, but his eyes were now a whirlwind of unreadable emotions.

"_Christine_?"

"Y-yes." I couldn't help squirming under his gaze, under the way he had said my name, the tone of unadulterated surprise.

He stared at me in wonder.

"I'm sorry…" I said, failing miserably at the attempt to tear my gaze from his. "Do you know me?"

"I-"

"Well if it isn't my greatest fan!"

Ibarely suppressed a groan at the sound of Raoul's voice.

But I put on a fake smile and looked up at him.

"Hello Raoul."

"Hello!" He let out a hearty laugh. "Would you care to dance, Chris-"

"She was about to dance with me. Excuse us." Mr. Destler took my arm and led me to the dance floor. He spun me abruptly to face him, placing one hand on the small of my back, and taking my hand in his other. The music began and he forced me into the waltz.

"Excuse me." I felt anger coursing through me veins. Who did he think he was? "I don't believe I granted you a dance."

He merely looked down at me, and I instantly felt small and insignificant. Mr. Destler emanated a sort of power and grace that I found compelling, and I felt my anger die. His steps were light and his movements throughout the dance were fluid. He whirled me around the dance floor with ease several times before speaking.

"Christine Daae." His voice sounded ethereal as it caressed my name. I looked into his face and instantly knew it wasa mistake. I couldn't help being attracted to his beauty. We were standing close, as the dance required, but it suddenly felt too close. His arms were around me as he pulled me in from my spin. His face was close, his breath warm on my cheeks. I could feel my face flushing, and I was suddenly acutely aware of his hand on my back, pressing me closer to him… _Oh God, I have to get out of here…_

But I was stuck. The waltz was far from over, I knew the particular song and it didn't end for at least another five minutes.

I averted my gaze from his. "How do you know me?" I whispered.

He let out a short, mocking laugh, and I felt the spell of his charm break. I instantly scolded myself for falling for his beauty. I knew the falseness of outward appearances.

"You don't know who I am."

"I- no." His statement surprised me. "Should I?"

He looked almost saddened for a moment, and I could feel his grip loosening. "No," he said softly, "I suppose not."

I frowned. "Mr. Destler-"

"You don't seem to like Mr. De Chagny all that much."

"I met him last night. He is an arrogant, dumb athlete who is too popular for his own good."

Mr. Destler smirked. "You are very opinionated."

I let out a haughty laugh, but smiled genuinely. "You don't think that?"

Mr. Destler's face retained that odd impassiveness. "I don't know him Miss Daae." He said quietly. "And I'm hardly one to base my opinions on outward appearances."

His words were like a slap in the face.

"What are you saying?" _What do you know of opinions based on outer beauty? What do you know of deformity? How would your face look if what was on the inside was on the outside? _

He didn't answer me for a second, just watched me. I felt an age-old question draw itself up from the dredges of my mind. _How would _my_ skin look?_

I hated him again. Hated him for making me attracted to his false good looks and his phony charm. Hated him for scolding me on judging other people.

Then- "I believe you understand Christine, more than anyone else in this room. And isn't that what he said? That you would understand?"

I felt cold as his arms dropped from me, and he whirled out of sight, into the shadows of the vast Opera House.

His words completely blew my mind. Who had said that I would understand? What was there about him that I had to understand?

And why would I, of all people, understand it?

I shuddered for a second, thinking of the things he could be implying. Did he know of my deformity?

I scoffed at the idea. No, how could he? I don't even know him.

But he seems to know me.

I shivered again, feeling that the whole exchange had been somewhat surreal. I suddenly longed for normalcy. For one night I just wanted to be treated like a normal girl…

"There you are, Christine!"

_Be careful what you wish for._

"Hello Raoul." I couldn't keep the sullenness out of my voice.

He smiled. "Would you like to dance now?"

"I…" I looked up into his eager face. What did he like so much about me? I could spot a number of jealous looking girls shooting me death glares from the corner.

"Of course."

He broke into a grin and lightly took me into his arms as the next song started. It was a slow song, and he held me closely as we swayed back and forth.

"I was hoping I would find you again." He said, his breath tickling the hair next to my ear. I pulled away slightly. "I was worried at first when I saw you with someone else. Boyfriend?" He asked.

"No," I said faintly.

"You're such a relief." He said, his green eyes twinkling. "You don't fawn over me like I'm the president or something. You let me feel normal. Just like any guy chasing after a girl."

I could feel my eyebrows lift in a faint expression of surprise, and sensed the sheath of eeriness I had felt since my encounter with Mr. Destler lift slightly.

"You don't enjoy being Carmel's hero?"

"I do what I do because I love it. Surfing is my passion. When I'm out there, all alone with the waves, the sun beating down on my back, water spraying on my face… it's indescribable. I would never give up surfing for anything. The people, the press, the fans, the medals- yes, they're fun, but I don't do it for them. That's not why I surf. The press sometimes makes it into something its not. I don't want to be a celebrity. I just want to be Raoul, a surfer."

"Wow." I said softly, truly touched by his clear ardor for his sport. "I never would have thought… I mean… I…" I trailed off, blushing. I had completely misjudged him.

"You thought I was some idiot who drank a bottle of beer before taking a board out onto the waves and got lucky by winning a couple of medals while I was high?" He asked flatly, as if he had heard it before.

"No!" I said vehemently. After hearing the sincerity in his speech, I didn't want to deny him anymore. Perhaps he really was just a guy chasing a girl. "No I didn't think that. I just… I never thought that people living the high life wanted out."

He smiled. "That's where you come in."

"Oh?"

"Yes. I saw you walking down the street, looking beautiful and angelic… don't look at me like that, the streetlight was beating down on you and your hair was shining… you looked heaven sent. And then I talked to you and you were witty too, and I thought, wow. This isn't the girl that's going after me because I have a bunch of worthless trophies in my closet. This girl is the real thing."

I smiled. "You really surprise me, Raoul."

"Is that a good thing?"

"Yes. Definitely a good thing." He smiled back at me and we danced on for the rest of the night.

The music stopped at around midnight, and I was genuinely surprised to find it was so late.

"Wow," I said to Raoul as he handed me a coke. "Thanks." He nodded.

"What's wow?"

I laughed. "I just… this night has been really nice. The time went by so fast."

"Yeah, I know what you mean."

I sighed as I downed the drink. "What now?" He asked with a hint of amusement.

"I was wondering when we'd see each other again. How long are you staying in Carmel?"

He smiled broadly. "That's the great thing about it. I spoke to my manager last night after I met you. I suggested a break and he agreed."

"A break?" I asked enthusiastically. "How long?"

"As long as I want, Christine."

I smiled. "Not that I want to take you away from your waves…."

"Of course you're not. I can catch all the waves I want here. And I can be with you."

"That's great."

He nodded, and then we heard the announcement of the end of the ball. Raoul smiled and took my hand.

"Well…"

"Didn't you say something last night about dinner?"

He grinned. "Amazing memory you've got there. Yes, I believe I did. Should I pick you up at seven, then?"

"Seven would be great."

"Alright then, Christine. I'll see you tomorrow."

He made his way down to the valet and called for his car.

"Good night!" I called as he stepped into it. He winked at me before shutting the door and speeding off into the night.

I sighed, and walking down the steps towards the valet in a sort of a daze.

"Daae car, please." I said, "Number 43."

"Yes, Miss Daae. Please wait here." The valet took my ticket and handed it to another man who dashed off to get my car.

I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and pushed the number two speed dial. It rang several times before an exasperated Meg picked up.

"Christine Daae I am going to murder you."

"Why?" I asked, giggling.

"What?" Meg asked incredulously. "Was that a giggle?"

"Why do you want to kill me? I think Raoul de Chagny might have a few things to say about that."

"You were gone all night! I-_Raoul? _What?"

I smiled. "Meet me outside. I'll tell you all the details!" I hung up, feeling giddier than I had in years.

The car was pulled up and the man held my keys out to me.

"Have a good night," He said, and I nodded and returned the gesture. I got into my car and saw Meg's red clad form bounding down the stairs.

"Chrissie!" She cried as she slammed the door. I started the car down the driveway.

"Tell me everything." She ordered, and I obliged. At certain points during my story she squealed and sighed, but eventually fell silent.

When I was finished, she leaned over and hugged me. "Christine I'm so happy for you! I told you Raoul was a great guy."

"I know… for once you were right!"

"Ha!" Meg punched a first triumphantly into the air as I pulled into her driveway. I turned off the engine and unlocked the doors.

"I'm kind of tired." I said, running a hand over the top of my hair.

"Meg?" I asked. She sat in the seat awkwardly. "Meg, what is it?"

"I… Christine, I don't want to bring this up and ruin your mood, but…"

"What? Whats happened?" _Why do these things always happen to me?_

"No… nothing happened, I just…. Christine, Raoul is a great guy, yes. But what about… will you tell him about…?"

She looked at me and I saw cruel reality reflected in her face. I had forgotten. For one, blissful night I had forgotten that I was a tainted person. Raoul had been attracted to my beauty. That's one of the first things he had said to me. How would he ever accept my ugliness?

"I…"

"I'm sorry Christine." She whispered, and she popped the door to the car and walked quickly up the steps.

I didn't want to deceive him. But how could I tell him? I didn't want to loose him, he had been so kind to me…. He had called me an angel.

Would Raoul be able to see past the skin? Would he be the one to finally understand?

My father had promised me that Erik, the mythical Erik would understand me and accept me. Erik didn't exist. He was like the Angel of Music. I believed my father had made him up to comfort me.

Perhaps Raoul was meant to be my Erik.

**Yes! Ha ha ha ha! I'm so excited about this chapter! You must tell me what you think! I hadn't meant to write another chapter today but the words just kept flowing! Oh and by the way for all the EC fans... yes the story will still be EC... although telling you that does kill some of the excitement doesn't it? Oh well... I LOVE EC- EC 4EVA!**

**Anyway... I am very happy with this chapter… Christine is so naïve… Erik is mysterious… and Raoul isn't foppish! Who would've thunk it?**

**Anyway… please tell me what you think! I can't make my writing better without feedback!**

**IceCliff**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey Guys.**

**I think I may have disappointed you guys with the RC ness of the last chapter… but I'm simply setting up the plot. Please don't give up on my stories… I hate disappointing readers! Raoul has to be the way he is… but… yeah, this story will definitely not be RC!**

**Tink20- Yes, I think Christine will be clueless for a while. Since she seems to be pretty innocent in all versions of Phantom. And I can't tell you if she'll figure out who he is… but it makes for good suspense right? Lol… I know, sometimes its impossible to like le Fop… and then other times I just feel bad for the poor misguided soul who tries to win Christine when we all know she's hopelessly in love with le phantom. Thanks for reading! Keep reading! **

**CarolROI- Yes, him knowing her is extremely important to the plot... he he he…. And yes… thank you! That's exactly how I wanted to portray Christine… poor girl, I'm so mean to my characters. I took my inspiration for her character from what I've read and seen about the phantom. And my Erik… well…. You'll see about him.  Yes… about Meg… also quite important to the plot… so anyway… keep reading! I enjoy your reviews because they're long and thoughtful and give me the kind of feedback I need! Thanks! Keep reading!**

**Mouse- Yes I know. Depressing isn't it? The fop always seems to get in the way. And Christine thinks that Erik doesn't exist. Pft. But have no fear. Monsieur le Fop will get what he deserves sooner or later…**

**Madrugadita- Actually, I'm not. I chose Carmel because I have been there before, and it was conveniently across the country from New Hampshire, and I wanted Christine to be far away. I'm sorry if I have disappointed you. I've only spent a few days in Carmel.**

**I bring you Chapter Five… with some credit to Rogers and Hart who wrote the song My Funny Valentine that I use in this chapter. Really great song if you've never heard it…**

_"Christine, sweetie?" The man poked his head around the corner. "Christine, where are you?"_

_"Here, Papa." The thirteen year old said from the music room. Mr. Daae smiled at the sight of his daughter on the piano bench. He could imagine the two of them, what beautiful music they would make together… which reminded the man of his original purpose._

_He sighed slightly as he looked down at the music sheets in his hands. My Funny Valentine. The meaning of the song had not escaped him. Erik was clearly yearning for another soul, someone who would not care about his looks… but about his soul._

_"I have a song for you sweetie."_

_Christine smiled and she seemed to glow. "Really?" She asked excitedly. "May I see it?"_

_"Yes darling. I'll accompany you." The man said, reaching for his violin. Christine's hand stayed him._

_"No, no. Papa this song is meant to be played on the piano."_

_She was right, of course. Erik always composed on the piano. The man was amazed at the connection the two seemed to have, even when they had never met._

_"Sing it, Christine."_

_The girl placed the music on the stand and flexed her fingers. But she paused above the beloved keys._

_"What is it?"_

_"The song." She said, her voice sounding thick with tears. "Its so sad…"_

_Christine opened her mouth and poured her emotions out through Erik's words. Mr. Daae slowly stood up and left Christine to her lamenting._

_"My song." He turned at the whisper from the man hidden in the shadows._

_"Papa." Christine called from within the room. "Who wrote this song?"_

_Mr. Daae looked Erik squarely in the eyes. "The Angel of Music, sweetie."_

Meg made me a cup of coffee in the morning and brought it to my desk. I had offered to drive her to the office after breakfast, and she acquiesced.

She sat down in one of the comfortable, fluffy blue chairs on the other side of my desk.

"Did you happen to strike a deal with Mr. Khan and Mr. Destler?"

I blinked. Through the haze of my amazing night with Raoul I had forgotten about the mysterious Mr. Destler and his Middle Eastern partner.

"Yes, actually. They've agreed to a merger."

"Wonderful!" Meg exclaimed, "I loved their designs."

"Hmm. Speaking of which, I need you to phone them. We need to set up a date for our next meeting."

"I'm on it, Chrissie." She smiled and then stood up gracefully, taking her plastic cup with her and launching it into the tin wastebasket near my door.

"Oh, and Meg."

She turned to look at me, eyebrows raised.

"Mr. Tater asked me to meet him at the Opera House for… lunch." I winced as I searched for a lie. "I'll be out for the rest of the day." She nodded, seeming a bit confused.

"Did you want me to take your calls…?"

"Yes… that would be good."

I began to gather some of my work into piles, and put my mailla folder in my bag.

"If Mr. Destler or Mr. Khan call?" She inquired.

I looked up at her. "Set up an appointment. You know my schedule." I zipped up my bag, and saw that she was still watching me. I merely swung my tote over my shoulder and walked past her.

"I'll see you later Meg." I said, turning before I exited the office. Her nod was the last thing I saw before the thick blue door swing closed.

I sighed and breathed in deeply, happy to be away from the choking air of the office. Meg and my relationship was quite odd. At some points we were closer than sisters…. And then sometimes we were strangers living under the same roof.

I put the blame entirely on myself. I wasn't too trusting of people, and Meg, despite how nice she was to me, was no exception. I loved the girl for all she had done for me, but sometimes she annoyed me to no end. She had a nasty habit of not being able to keep secrets and was awfully blunt. But I learned to deal with her and had come to adore her. She was an excellent dancer and was also interested in arcitechture and design. Her mother lived in Sacramento with her older brother John and his wife Sarah.

Sometimes we would go up to the roof of our little house and camp up there for the night. We would tell each other our depest hopes and fears. She had admitted to me that she was afraid of commitment. She said that she was terrified because she had come from a broken home, where her parents were always fighting and screaming.

I had, in turn, told her the story of Richard. She had shown me compassion that night, and I belive, despite her faults, that I have learned much from Meg.

I sighed, thinking about our friendship now. I hated lying to her, but I wanted to visit the Opera House alone. Building it had been a new experience. I loved the building for its grace and its beauty. Now that it would be open to shows and singers, I wanted to be alone with the building once more before I parted with it.

I pushed open the doors quitely. I knew that there would be some caretakers here to help clean up after the party. Stealthily I slipped inside, and closed the door gently behind me. I took light steps along the length of the entrance hall, towards a slim wooden staircase on the side that was closed off to the public. I climbed them quickly, taking two stairs at a time.

I knew exactly where I was heading, and I couldn't bring myself not to go there. I missed music so much.

I pushed open the door, and, just as I expected, the grand piano sat there in all its shining white glory. Staring at it, I felt the vaugest prickle of tears. I sat down carefully at the piano bench, and closed my eyes as I felt my finger press down on a mournful c-minor chord. The dam broke.

I slid off the bench and felt a deluge of tears flood my face. I needed music. Dammit I _loved_ this! I couldn't leave it, knowing it was always within my reach, if I could just face my past, could just let go. Let go….

I saw the piano through my sorrow. It called to me, seemed to say, 'I feel your pain, share with me.' One hand blindly wiped my face, and I pushed myself up with the other. I once again took my seat before the instrument, and laid my hands on its beautiful keys.

"This is for you, Papa." I heard myself whisper as I broke into an old, familiar melody. "And you, Erik. Wherever you are, my Angel of Music."

The notes of the Moonlight Sonata filled the room and I felt myself floating away into the sounds. When I first heard this song, I thought it was sad. I couldn't understand how it was describing a lake. But now, playing it, it filled my soul with tranquility, a peacefulness that I craved.

I could see the lake clearly in my mind's eye. It was gorgeous… deep blue rivulets of water flowing next to the darkened earth… the moon, shining her beautiful, wise silver face upon the water, her reflection distorted, yet beautiful… so breathtaking… I wanted to drown in that lake and never wake up… the melody was calling me, and I had to give into it… I had to let go…

The music faded off and I opened my eyes. My hands were cold, and I felt my tears dropping onto them. I sat quietly at the piano, staring at its majestic beauty. Thank you. Thank you for my music.

I stared at my reflection for a moment and frowned. There was a misty figure that had materialized behind me.

"Would you play?" He asked, and I turned to see him, his yellow gaze anchoring me.

What did he mean, would I play? Had he heard me in my mournful lament? That had been so incredibly personal. I couldn't bear the thought of anyone seeing me when I was vulnerable.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Would you play?" He asked gently, casting a reverently longing look towards the piano.

"I…" I trailed off, wondering about the enigma that stood before me. When I had first met him, he had seemed incredibly arrogant and detached. And then, at the Ball, he had known me, had seemed so different, so gentle in the way he treated me, if not mysterious.

"You wouldn't give up music." He said softly.

"I did." I whispered looking away from him. "For nearly six years, I did."

"No you didn't. Not music. You haven't given up on music, Christine. On humanity, maybe. You felt ostracized by people, and maybe you gave up on them, on trying to fit in. You simply couldn't understand people, the way they acted, they way they would destroy something so delicate as music… as life." His voice was quiet, but compelling. "But you haven't given up your music, Christine. You can't, because it rests in your soul."

I stared into his wise eyes and for a moment, they were windows into his soul. I could see the veil lifted for a moment, see the pain he held with him as plainly as I could see the crushed dreams… and the budding hope.

He suddenly seemed to change in front of me. His eyes went completely blank, and he composed himself, straightening up and resting his hand gently on the top of the piano. I couldn't understand what he had said. How could he know about me, about the fears I buried deep in my heart? How could he know how I tried to separate myself from people, because of the terrible things they did? How did he know…?

The first words that came out of my mouth were uncontrollable. "What are you doing here?"

He seemed somewhat surprised. "I could ask the same question."

I could feel a blush working its way up my neck. "I… I just wanted to be alone, with the music. I haven't… not for so long… its bittersweet, the music…"

"Christine," He whispered gently, and I looked into his golden eyes as if they would lead me, for I felt so utterly lost. "Music is a hard mistress to please. But not for you, whose spirit is the very fabric of music."

His fingers gently plodded out a melody that I instantly recognized. I gasped, and he looked at me in a way that prodded my very soul. "You have been touched by the Angel of Music." He whispered, and then he opened his mouth to sing the words.

I sat, mesmersized. The first thought running through my head had been _how does he know this song?_

_Be hold the way our fine feathered-friend  
his virtue doth parade.  
Thou knowest not my dim witted friend,  
the picture Thou hast made.  
Thy vacant brow and Thy tousled hair  
conceal Thy good intent.  
Thou noble upright, truthful, sincere  
And slightly dopey gent- you are_

He turned to me, and I searched his face frantically. How? _How?_

"I believe you know the rest, Christine." And he continued playing.

I hadn't sung in such a very long time. And now that I had finally reconnected with music, there was no way I was letting it go.

_My funny Valentine,  
Sweet comic Valentine.  
You make me smile with my heart._

He didn't smile however, just kept playing. I felt like I was seeing him through a haze. He looked like an angel, sitting there, playing this song…

_Your looks are laughable,  
Unphotographable.  
Yet, you're my favorite work of art._

I had often though of this song as the years went by after the accident. The words were so untrue… for who would be able to see past my unphotographable looks? How I wished for someone to whisper these words to me… to tell me that it would be all right… to hold me until the world ended…

_Is your figure less than Greek?  
Is your mouth a little weak?  
When you open it to speak, are you smart?_

Why was he doing this to me? I vaugely felt tears running unchecked down my cheeks. I felt the crescendo coming on, and I yearned for compassion, for a kindered soul to ask me one of those questions… for someone who would say i_s you skin less than perfect?_ and then reply…

_But, don't change a hair for me.  
Not if you care for me.  
Stay little Valentine, stay!_

My voice broke. I couldn't do this, but I had to finish the song. It was such a beautiful song, so full of compassion. The Angel of Music wrote it.

_Each day is Valentine's Day._

"Music is a hard mistress to please," He repeated quietly, and I stared at him incredulously. Who was he, this mysterious commander of music? "but you serve it well."

He stood to go, but I couldn't let him disappear again, not after… not after that.

"How?" I breathed. "How?"

He looked back at me, and I felt my heart skip a beat at his beauty.

"Music comes in many forms Christine. Some people believe in Angels. And that's what he called me."

Then he was gone, and I stared after him for a moment. I could not, for the life of me, understand his words. Instead I felt another flood of tears spill out of my eyes.

* * *

I wasn't sure how long after that I left the Opera House, but the sky was already dark, and I had to use the streetlights to help me find my way home. 

I felt emotionally spent, and my throat was hurting a little. It was the first time I had sung since I sang the requiem at my father's funeral.

Shivering, I thought of the song. My father had given it to me once, and told me the Angel of Music wrote it. How did Mr. Destler know it? As far as I knew, that had been the only copy, for I never saw that song again after I locked it in my closet with my father's violin.

But then, who was Mr. Destler? That name no longer seemed to fit him. He seemed fey- like an angel. His voice was of an unearthly quality. Just remembering it gaves me goosebumps along my skin. He had left the gift of music at my feet, and I longed to pick it up again. I wanted to breath music as I once did.

I was hopelessly confused as to who the mysterious music man was. I was hopelessly wishing against all odds that he was the angel of music.

And, I realized as I approached Meg's home, I was also hopelessly late.

Raoul was just stepping out of his car as I approached from behind. Seeing him seemed so odd after such an- indescribable - experience. He representented normal.

I called to him weakly and he turned, seeming surprised.

"Christine?" He asked, "Are you alright?"

"I'm… fine." I said softly, and he walked towards me.

"You look upset."

I shook my head, wanting to temporarliy forget the whole thing. It took too much energy to think about it. There were too many unexplained questions, too many things I had put to the back of my mind for so long.

He smiled then, and I attempted to return the gesture.

"Then lets go!" He said jovially, offering me his arm. I laughed weakly and he pulled me towards the car.

"Where are we going?" I asked tentatively. I still felt somewhat fragile.

"Oh, to this great restaurant I found this morning. The menu looks great." He told me all about the merits of the restaurant as he started up the car, and I looked out my window towards Meg's house.

"Oh…"

"Christine?"

"Can I borrow your cell phone?"

He seemed bemused for a moment, but then pulled the slim phone from his pocket.

"Thanks…" I quickly dialed the home number and Meg picked up on the first ring.

"Christine?"

"Yeah, hi."

"Oh its good to hear you! I got a little bit worried…. I didn't know how long you would stay there."

"Yeah," I sighed, tracing my fingers along the window, wishing I could tell her all that had transpired in that little music room. "I didn't realize the time. I'm with Raoul now. He picked me up."

"Oh!" I could hear her concealed squeal. "That's great Chrissie!" A giggle. "Have fun! I'll wait up for you!"

"All right," I said, feeling the need to snort. I could always count on Meg to bring me back to my normal self. "Bye."

I flipped the small phone closed and offered it back to the owner. He nodded.

"So Christine. What do you do?"

"I head a small contracting business."

"Oh. That's sounds interesting." I could tell from his tone that he didn't know a thing about the subject.

"Its nice. I like desigining and arcitechtue. I'm especially proud of the Opera House."

I figured he couldn't think of a good reply, because he quickly pulled into a parking lot and said proudly, "This is it!"

I glanced around. The name of the place was_ **Z**oe_. I wasn't familiar with it because Meg was a good cook and we usually dined at home. But it looked like a nice place and I trusted Raoul's judgement.

"Coming, Miss?" Raoul asked politely as he opened my door for me. I smiled.

"Thank you."

Raoul nodded, and led me towards the doors of the restauraunt. We entered, and immediately several heads turned to looks at us. A low hum of whispered could be heard beneath the classical music that drifted off the stage.

Raoul looked to the _Maître d' Hôtel_, who stood proudly in a pressed black suit.

"May I help you?" He asked pleasantly, although I'm quite sure he knew who Raoul was.

"Yes. We have reservations." Raoul paused, but the man didn't say anything. "Under de Chagy."

"Of course!" He exclaimed, and I muffled a groan. "Right this way, Mr. De Chagny!"

We followed the overenthusiastic waiter to a small table near the windows. There was an incredible view of the ocean, with the stars glittering happily alongside the halfmoon.

Once we were comfortably seated with our menus, I realized just how uncomfortable I was. I hadn't been on a date since Richard, six years ago. What should I say or do? I hardly knew Raoul, yet last night I had been perfectly content to dance the night away. What had changed?

The answer was obvious as I watched Raoul servey the menus. The encounter with the strange angel- for I have decided Mr. Destler is anything but human- had affected me more than I was comfortable admitting. It had only been a couple of hours ago, and the song was still with me. That strange, sad song was still haunting my mind, with his beautiful voice caressing the notes as if they were part of him…

"Christine?" Raoul was watching me with an odd expression. He seemed to be waiting for an answer.

"Hmm?"

He frowned slightly, and I felt guilty for thinking about someone else while on a date with him. "I asked if you had any family here in Carmel? Since you said you were from New Hampshire?"

There it was. The all familiar stomach clench and twinge of remorse.

"I… no. I live with Meg, we're roomates."

"Oh. That's nice. How long ago did you move here?"

"Six years."

"What attracted you to Carmel?"

_What is this an interview?_ "Nothing in particular."

"Its pretty far away from New Hampshire." He commented.

"I know." I said quitely, looking away from him. _I know. That's why I chose it._

"I've never been to New Hampshire. Is it nice?"

I looked up at him. "It was beautiful." I said wistfully. "But beauty is often decieving."

Raoul blinked and shifted uncomfortably. "What do you mean?" He asked warily.

"Nothing." I said quickly. "I just… that's a painful topic. Lets talk about something else."

"I'm sorry." He said, and he sounded sincere. But really, how could he be? He didn't know what he was apologizing for.

"Hmm. Did you always live in Carmel?"

"Yeah. With my brother, Phillipe. He's in Grad school, trying to be a doctor. And then my sister, Penny. She's in UCLA."

"Penny and Phillipe. Where did Raoul come in?"

Raoul laughed. "I don't know. I was always the middle child… so I was always different."

I didn't say anything for a moment. I never had siblings. I didn't know what it was like to have family supports to lean on.

The waiter came to take our orders. I wasn't feeling particularly hungry, and just order a salad. Raoul ordered a pasta plate off the vegetarian menu.

I raised my eyebrows at him and he shrugged. "My grandpa used to live on a farm. I would always go there and look at all the chickens and the cows and I couldn't stand to eat them."

"That's cute."

"Don't make fun of me. I happen to believe very strongly in animal rights."

"And well you should. You're an icon. I'm sure if people found out you were a vegetarian, they would become ones too."

As if on cue, a timid girl from a table across the room approached our table and asked for his authograph. Raoul smiled gently at her and signed the little notebook for her.

When she left, Raoul smiled at me. "Christine have you ever been with someone?"

I sputtered and almost choked on my water. "What?"

"You know, someone else. Boyfriend?"

"I… that's an extremely personal question." _One that I'd prefer not to answer._

"But I'd like to get to get to know you Christine… maybe be more involved."

I blinked. I had only met the guy two days ago! "Raoul, I hardly know you."

"But after you get to know me…?"

"I don't know. I'm not really looking for a relationship to tell you the truth."

"But last night… I thought…"

"Raoul," I said gently, "Just let things be. If they progress to that stage, then, okay. But don't force anything out of me."

"I'm sorry Christine. I didn't meant to push it like that."

"Its alright."

We didn't discuss anything else of importance for the rest of the evening. It was a nice dinner, but there seemed to be an edge of distance underneath the whole night.

I felt terrible about it. Why did I have to push him away like that? I liked him, a lot. I just couldn't let go of everything…

When Raoul dropped me off at Meg's house, I didn't feel that we had accomplished very much. He walked me to the door.

"I had a nice evening." He said, but I felt it was more out of politeness than anything else.

"Raoul… I didn't mean to-"

"Shh." He placed a kiss on my cheek. "I'll see you again soon." He grinned wickedly as he pulled away, leaving me shocked.

"After all," He said as he descended the stairs to the house, "I have your number in my phone now."

I couldn't help laughing as he drove off into the night, a streak of light in the darkness.

**Alright then! Yay. Date with fop is over. **

**I actually like this chapter even though it's a bit long… I'm hoping you guys will like that. I love that song My Funny Valentine… the first part is a bit odd… but, yeah… its one of my favorites.**

**Anyway… review! Tell me what you think of ignorant Raoul and mysterious Erik!**

**Ice Cliff**


	6. Chapter 6

**Right. Like I said, nothing to do because I'm on break…. So I've written another chapter.**

**I'm glad to see you're all so excited about a Christine-realizing-who-Erik-is moment! Although I have to say, it does kind of take away the suspense of her realization since you all know who he is… but then again its kind of funny to have Christine all clueless and stuff… alright just ignore the random rants of the authoress…**

**CarolROI- That's an interesting way to look at it. It is kind of going into the psychological side of Christine and Erik with the way he's challenging her mind. Her past was something she wanted to forget, or 'let go' as she stated in the last chapter. But then there was the whole thing with her father that she wants again… I'll get into that in the next few chapters. And yes, Raoul acts like a typical guy. What else do we except from him? He _is_ a normal guy… As always, thanks for the review! Keep reading!**

**Mouse in the Opera House- Yes, I was very excited when I wrote that… I kept thinking how much of an idiot Raoul was. Get excited! Erik tells me he's also excited for her to realize. (Too much fanfiction over break hallucinations of Erik… although they are quite nice ones…. Just kidding!) **

**Kalaia- Thanks for the enthusiasm. I aim to please!**

**NJrox- I really hope you like this chapter. I tried. Really, I did. Yes, I did stick to myself… even more so as I torture le fop in this chapter… ha ha ha… I know it lacks worldly knowledge… I couldn't really think of much to do about the whole job thing. I don't even know where to begin on researching stuff like that. **

**Well, at first she hated Raoul too so he was described as an arrogant athlete. When she first met Mr. Destler, she didn't know what to think of him because she saw him for one second and he seemed arrogant then because he was really hot, and he took off the second his cell phone rang. (think Dan scenario) **

**Yes, I know and I agree. Erik should not be compared to Raoul. Its sacrilege. Like I said, being hot and knowing it was simply Christine's impression of him, but Erik is not like that, as she soon comes to realize. Being observant and smart are two more qualities that make Erik so special. **

**Yes, it does seem obvious, but that's the catch, right? You, the reader, don't understand the connection. I, the writer, know the connection. So you'll just have to keep reading to understand completely. The deformity…well, you'll see. Lol.**

**I think in this chapter I do justice to Raoul. And yes, ha ha. 'Perhaps Raoul was meant to be my Erik.' Pft. That girl has a lot to learn. Corruption against Raoul is good for the soul, young grasshopper. I definitely appreciate it. I hope you keep reading my story! I purposely made sure this chapter was up today just for you! **

* * *

**I hope you guys are enjoying this story as much as I am! It's so nice to write again! **

**Okay so chapter six, the beginning is a bit gory but yeah… The italicized part kind of explains some of the confusing parts… that's why the italicized parts are so important to read!  
**

_The fourteen year old crept into the parlor, brought there by the disturbing sound of her father shouting on the phone._

"_Papa?" She asked tentatively, and her father quickly hung up the phone. "Papa, its after midnight. Who are you yelling at?"_

"_No one darling. I just had some… unfinished business."_

_Christine looked wary. "I heard you shouting last night also."_

"_Christine, really, its nothing. Its just something that should be over with soon."_

_Christine sighed, and then yawned. _

"_You should go to bed sweetheart."_

"_I know. Good night Papa."_

"_Sweet dreams Christine."_

_The girl nodded once more before exiting the room. The shadows rustled in disapproval._

"_You have to tell her sooner or later. She's almost fifteen."_

"_I know." The man watched his daughter ascend the stairs. "It's a parent's curse Erik. I don't want her to get upset."_

"_She's in danger also."_

"_No. I won't let them hurt her. That's why this has to end Erik. It has to end now."_

"_A good choice, if you want to get over the addiction. You have to cut all ties with these men."_

"_I know. I'm trying."_

_The shadows hesitated before a gentle hand came out and landed on Mr. Daae's shoulder._

"_I'll help you."_

_The man nodded in relief. "Thank you Erik."_

Today is August 15th. I've marked the day red in my calendar. I've marked the whole week read in my calendar.

It seems an eternity since I had that date with Raoul. In reality, it was only a week. Time began to have no meaning as I realized how close it was to _the day_. I was in a haze, waking up everyday in my bed, but not remembering how or when I got there. Meg tried to help me but I locked my door. I wouldn't come out until she had left, and still I had nothing to do but mourn.

The sadness seemed like a blanket that had settled over me. The stars seemed paler, the ocean seemed angrier, and the sun brighter. I closed my shades over my windows, not wanting to be a part of the outside world. I didn't want to have to hold this pain. I didn't want to be ripped apart by agony as the day approached, like a knife slowly but surely being pressed into my heart.

"How did it happen?" I could hear the frenzied whispers of people I knew through the white door of my room in the recess of my mind. The police couldn't answer their questions. They said it might have been any number of gang related murders they had seen in the last few months. It didn't help me. I wanted revenge. I needed to see my father's murderers behind bars.

My father had been the one solid figure in my life. When my mother passed away I had been four, and my father had grieved for a long time. He had slipped into an unhealthy addiction to painkillers that he bought off the black market. At the time, I had been too young to understand what he was doing with the needle. It wasn't until he began talking about Erik that he came out of his shell again, and I began to see less and less of the offending needle. He said that Erik had brought music back into the house, and it was partially true. My father began playing his violin again, and my singing lessons commenced. Still, I never saw the mysterious Erik, and, in retrospect, he may have been a hallucination of the morphine.

But when my father began playing again, life brightened up. I spent all my time with my father, telling him the things I had learned in school and the people I met. He took me to England the summer of my 12th birthday, and we would spend the nights sitting out on the balcony of the small Victorian house we rented and talk about everything. My father told me about life, about how to treat people and how to be fair. He was my role model and my hero.

And then came the fire. The night I came home from the hospital, I wouldn't talk to anyone. I had been afraid of myself, and of what I had seen on my skin. I didn't answer anyone's phone calls and wouldn't eat or sleep. My father brought me out of my haze. He asked me to see what was troubling me, but I told him it was too hideous. He brought his violin to my bedside and told me that music didn't reject anyone. He said that if I was deformed, all I had to do was look to my music, and I would find beauty there. Eventually I worked up the courage to show him, because he was my father and I trusted him. He accepted me, and told me that we would never leave me.

"Chrissie? Sweetie? Please come out of there." Meg knocked on my door.

I looked up through my tear-strained eyes. "No." I whispered. "Meg, please. Go."

I had to bear the pain alone. I couldn't rely on someone else to help me heal. This was all up to me. The gaping whole my father left in my life was something only I could deal with.

After the accident, the midnight calls began again. Even then, at fifteen, I couldn't understand what was going on. Then, it happened.

I remember the day as if I could close my eyes and I would slip back into the memory of six years ago. I had just come home from music practice, where I had a terrible time attempting to avoid Richard. But I had learned a new piece, and I wanted to sing it for my father before we started dinner. The house was quiet when I entered, so I figure that he had fallen asleep. I called his name, but there was no answer. I guessed that all the midnight calls had left him somewhat fatigued. The door to the music room was slightly ajar. I had entered softly, so as not to wake him. There was no use. He was not going to wake up.

The room had been incredibly dark, and I flipped the light switch.

"Papa, I learned this new song. I wanted to know your opinion-"

I had felt faint as the scream left my body. The knife was shining maliciously out of my father's stomach.

"Oh my God. Papa! Papa please!" I had draped myself over his cold body. "No! No, Papa please wake up! Please, I don't know what to do!"

I had seen it a million times on TV, had read about it in countless books. But this was different. This was the real thing, and I didn't know what to do to save my one and only companion. The knife was light and came easily when I pulled it out. The amount of blood made me squeamish, and I knew I couldn't do it alone. I didn't know if he was still alive, but I had to believe that someone could do something for him.

"Hang on Papa." I whispered as my finger fumbled to dial 911. "Oh my God…" the ringing began and I felt it was an eternity before the operator picked up.

I vaguely heard their sirens before the ground came up to meet me.

"Please Papa, I need you."

The last thing I remembered was a pair of arms catching me, which I figured had to be the police. I awoke on a small white cot in the hospital. I called for my father, and that's when the policeman came in.

I cried myself into a fever, and I spent several says in the hospital just on the edge of consciousness, my mind still not fully comprehending what had happened. The weeks after are ambiguous in my memory. All I remember is deciding to trek across the country. And then I ended up in Carmel.

The day was back. Now it was August 15th again, and I was drowning. The music that had saved me the week before couldn't help me now. I tortured myself with the locked closet. I knew what lay behind it, and I stared at it for days, willing my father's violin to play for me. It wouldn't. The music was gone.

_I have to get to the Opera House._ The thought came unbidden into my mind, but it suddenly made perfect sense. It was my haven; the only place I could reach true solitude.

I vaguely heard Meg shuffling around outside. I knew I couldn't face her. My eyes wildly swept the room. What other way did I have of getting out?

_Of course, the window._ My fingers frantically pulled tugged at the locks on my window, and I lifted up the age-old glass panes. I slipped two legs out of the window and positioned myself to jump down. There was a small bush below me, and I sent out a silent prayer that it would cushion my fall as I pushed myself from the windowsill.

For a few glorious seconds I was falling through the air. The wind caressed my hair and my face, making me feel like a bird. I had shut my eyes and felt the air whisper against my eyelids. I could fly like this forever…

The pain of impact jarred me from my fantasy. My legs gave out beneath me and I felt all my breath leave my lungs. I sat for a moment, feeling lightheaded at the lack of oxygen, trying to get my swimming gaze back into focus. I blinked rapidly and then attempted to stand up.

The moment I felt secure I dashed towards the car, throwing open the door and jumping in, motivated by my desperation. I sped through the streets, my hands working individually from my mind, which was still caught in a miasma of darkness.

I parked and locked the car, my feet running swiftly towards the musical building. Where to go? My angel's voice split into my mind. _The roof. _Of course. Where else could I be alone with the heavens to weep? What better place to reminisce of my father, than somewhere so close to where he was now?

My running brought my to the edge the threshold that led out onto the roof. I stepped resolutely over the metal, wanting to be free of the terrible anguish that had driven me here.

My adrenaline rush spent, I felt cold and sad again. I walked aimlessly towards the edge of the roof, my legs folding under me as I felt another spasm of tears.

"Papa… Papa…. You promised you'd never leave me."

He had. He had always promise me that we would have each other forever. But then… as if he had a premonition of the things to come, my father had begun telling me more and more of Erik, promising me that _Erik_ would always be with me, and that _Erik_ would accept me. Now I had neither of them. Why was fate so cruel?

"Papa! You lied!" I felt guilty, shaming my father's spirit. But I couldn't help it. I was so lost, and I needed him, and he was gone.

"He did the best he could Christine."

"You!" I cried out through my tears, standing to face him. "How dare you speak of my father! How dare you intrude on me!"

He took a step closer. "Christine-"

"No! Who are you? Why won't you leave me alone?" To my mortification, the tears began to spill again. "I don't need you. I don't need Raoul. I don't need Meg. I need my father…" I slipped down again, forgetting that he was there. "Papa! Please Papa…"

I felt a pair of arms encircle me. "Christine."

"Let me go. Let me go!" I cried. I beat my fists against his chest, too exhausted to do any real harm, but wanting to be alone.

"Christine, let it go. Don't lock up your pain."

For a moment I stayed there in his hold, feeling his voice soothing my frayed nerve endings. But the silence became too much. "Who are you?" I whispered against the soft fabric of his shirt.

"Who would you like me to be?"

I pushed him away from me. Why was he mocking me? "Stop it! Just stop it! I don't need this! I don't need you to be cryptic! I-"

"Christine." He pulled me into his embrace again and I felt a sob erupt from my throat. "Its alright to cry. Forget me for the moment. Remember him. Remember all that was good about him. Don't dwell on what might have been, but remember all that was. Never forget, but don't waste your life wishing. Then all that he gave you will be in vain."

I cried into his chest, pulling the cotton of his shirt into my hands and burying my face in them. His hand gently stroked my hair, and I heard his voice by my ear.

"Shhh. Christine. It's going to be all right. It's going to get brighter. You'll see… shhh. You're not alone, Christine…"

I don't know how long I stayed there with his arms around me, but eventually my crying subsided to a sniffle, and I lifted my head to look at him. His eyes, brilliantly gold, bore into mine.

"You've never been alone, Christine."

"He's gone."

"He didn't want to leave you."

"He's gone." I whispered, shaking my head. "He's gone! He's never coming back." The golden gaze never wavered.

"Stop watching me! Stop looking at me like you know the grief in my soul!"

"Christine." He whispered, pulling my head back down against his chest. His words were quiet and deliberate. "I do know. I want to help you. Let me lead you from your misery. Its not fair that you have to know such anguish."

"No!" I pushed him away forcefully, taking a few staggering steps back. I wrapped my arms around myself. "How can you want to help me?" My voice broke as I looked back at him accusingly. "Hmm? How _Mr. Destler_? You don't know me!"

"Why fight it Christine?" He asked quietly.

"What?" I felt exhausted. I didn't want to hear his cryptic remarks anymore.

"Your father only wanted to protect you."

"_He told me I'd be protected by an angel. An Angel Of Music_."

"Never an angel." He whispered.

I was desperate. The song he had sung for me came swimming back into my mind.

"Are you an angel?"

"You know exactly who I am Christine." His voice sounded sterner, but he approached me gently, taking me back into his arms.

"I don't." I sobbed. "And I just want it to end. I want to move on but I _can't._"

"Your father knew those midnight calls were dangerous."

I blinked, and I could have sworn I felt my heart stop for a full second.

"How can you know so much about me?" I looked up into his face and through my cloud of tears and despair; my mind could only come up with one answer.

"Angel." I whispered again, and he shook his head. _No? No, you're not my angel? _

His voice by my ear made me faint, and I could do nothing but follow his command.

"Sleep my angel, sleep."

* * *

The next time I opened my eyes I found myself lying on my bed. I frowned and sat straight up, taking in my surroundings. 

Had it all been a dream?

_If it hadn't_, I thought, to my chagrin, _Mr. Destler certainly thinks I'm insane._

I swung my legs over the side of my bed, examining them. They certainly didn't look like they suffered a fall from a second-story window. Why did I have such a strange dream?

_But it had seemed so real… _Then again, all the encounters with Mr. Destler had been strange… calling it a dream made it easier to deal with. There were fewer questions asked.

I sighed and looked towards my alarm clock, which told me the date was August the sixteenth. The day was behind me. It was time, as the angel in my dream had told me, to move on. I had cried enough this week.

It was about 9:30 in the morning. I threw the covers off of me and ambled towards my closet. Meg had set up a meeting with Mr. Khan at about 10:00, so I figured I had just enough time to make a cup of coffee and get to the office.

I didn't know if Mr. Destler was going to be there. I hardly knew what to think of him anymore. During the masquerade ball and in the music room he had been incredibly tender and understanding, as if he knew my soul, and everything I kept locked inside. But at his office he was and entirely different person. He seemed like an arrogant businessman, one who knows he is the best. Thus I couldn't compare the two sides of him.

I was attracted to the gentle angel that had appeared before me in the music room, but I was appalled at the conceited man that was the very antithesis of what I longed for.

I parked my car in the front of my office and took light, bouncy steps up the stairs. I was feeling better than I had in weeks, even though my mind was still confused. The pain I felt at the loss of my father was easing up a bit, more than it had in six years.

"Ms. Daae." I nodded at Tom, one of the workers from the doctor's office that was located on the third floor of the office building. I often met him in the coffee shop across from the office building. "Its nice to see you back at work."

"Its kind of nice to be back." I smiled at him as he went on his way.

I pushed open the door to my section of the office and received a warm welcome from several of my colleagues.

Tina Kelem, one of my more trusted assistants, smiled widely.

"Christine. You've been out all week. I'm glad to see my favorite employer is up and at 'em."

I laughed. "Its nice to know I'm your favorite employer."

"I'll look for my pay raise." She said lightly, winking as she walked past me.

"I wouldn't count on it!" I called after, amused. My eyes sought out Meg, and found that she was immersed in conversation with two tall men near the door to my office. I swallowed, feeling my increasing trepidation as I approached.

_It was just a dream. Just a dream._

_Oh God, what if it wasn't a dream?_

"Chrissie!" Meg shrieked, quite unprofessionally pulled me into a hug.

She pulled back and cleared her throat. "I thought you wouldn't be in today. But, now that you are…" She blushed. "Mr. Khan and Mr. Destler are here to see you."

I avoided looking at either of them, simply took the keys from my pocket and unlocked the door to my office. "If you please, gentleman." I said, feeling calmer than I was.

They followed me inside, and Nadir shut the door behind him. He smiled at me.

"I'm glad we've finally set up this meeting." My eyes traveled to Mr. Destler, whose face was once again the picture of neutrality. I noticed, however, that he was not looking at me. _Just a dream. He did not hold me and tell me that everything would be all right. He is not an angel. He doesn't know about me._

"Yes. Have a seat, please." I gestured in front of me as I sat down behind my desk.

For the better part of an hour, we discussed the finer details of the merge. I got a better sense of their design ideas and found out a bit more about their company. I also noticed that Meg had left a blue folder on my desk that read URGENT on the front.

Someone had requested a new house be built for him. I offered the job to Nadir and Mr. Destler and they seemed more than happy to accept. Well, at least Nadir showed it. Mr. Destler didn't seem to have any kind of facial expression at all, and I was beginning to feel somewhat uncomfortable. He had not said a word until I brought up the client.

"I have a design." I looked towards him, but he was looking down, flipping through the pages of the portfolio Nadir had brought. "It's an old design, one we've never used before… but it fits the landscape, and its better for hotter climates." He pulled a thin blueprint at handed it to me. "Its preliminary of course. I haven't worked on that design in a very long time."

I glanced at it, and felt a small gasp leave me for the beauty of the design. It was a large house, filled with many intricatlely-designed rooms, with rounded walls, balconies, and many small staircases. It had a surprising amount of glass worked into the foundation, some rooms having entire walls made of glass.

"This is…" I gazed at him. Nadir gently took the blueprint from my fingers.

"It's a nice design." He said quietly, and I snapped my stare away from Mr. Destler long enough to see Nadir watching me with an odd expression.

"So we'll be using it?"

"Oh… well I can't say for sure, Mr. Destler. It's a beautiful design but there are many people I have to talk to. We've got to see the client, and then I'll have to talk to some of my assistants to see-"

"Yes." He said impatiently. "Yes I know what needs to be done. How long will it take?"

"I couldn't say," I said coolly, willing myself to stay calm. This is what had bothered me about him, this insufferable egotism.

"Yes." Nadir said, apparently sensing the tension between us. "Why don't we-"

My cell phone rang, and I jumped. "I'm sorry… this will only take a minute." I added, blushing when I saw Raoul's name appear on the screen.

I lifted the phone to my ear. "Hey. This is a really bad time. I'm in the middle of a meeting."

"Tell them to wait. I've got news for you."

"Oh?" I asked, mildly interested, but mostly horrified that he had interrupted the meeting.

"I'm taking you out to dinner tonight."

"Okay." I said, slightly miffed. This was his all-important 'news'? "I've really got to go."

"I'm picking you up at eight. Be ready. Dress black tie."

"Black tie? Raoul what-"

"I'll see you later sweetie." He hung up, and I stared at the phone for a second, before shaking my head and looking back up at the two men across from me.

"I'm sorry. What were you saying, Mr. Khan?"

I hardly heard what Nadir said. The eyes were back, glowering at me. I felt like he was scolding me with his scalding look. It was as if I was his student and I had disappointed him. I could remember a time when those eyes had been adoring and gentle, when his arms had been around me and he was trying to comfort me, to bring me from my darkness… _Just a dream._

The meeting continued with that air of unease, and Mr. Khan was the one speaking the most. I could hardly look away from the penetrating golden gaze.

"So we'll see you again on Thursday?" Mr. Khan prompted as they collected their things.

"Oh!" I jumped. Mr. Destler broke eye contact. "Yes, of course. I'll set it up with Ms. Giry."

"Yes." Nadir said, nodding to me as they exited my office. "Goodbye, Ms. Daae."

Mr. Destler took one last look at me. "We'll be in touch." And then he was gone, following Mr. Khan out of the office.

Meg came up behind me. "I wasn't sure when you'd wake up. What happened to you last night?"

Fear gripped my insides with an icy hand.

"What do you mean?"

"Someone rang the doorbell at around six. I had thought you were asleep in your room, but I had no way of telling because you locked the door. So I opened the door and I see you, sleeping in the arms of some stranger. I couldn't see his face, and he let go of you as soon as I opened the door and disappeared."

"Oh my God."

It hadn't been a dream. It hadn't been a dream at all.

* * *

By 7:45 I was dressed and done up in make up fit for a princess. I sill had no idea what Raoul was taking me to, or why I needed to look so fancy. Meg fluttered about; putting last minute sparkling bobby pins in my hair and touching up my makeup ("I'm so jealous of your long eyelashes." "Red lips go so well with your complexion."). 

The doorbell rang at precisely eight o'clock and Meg- as if I wasn't expecting it- squealed.

She got the door and I picked up my red clutch that matched the scarlet and black dress Meg had picked out for me. It had a high collar, as I could only wear, but it was sleeveless, and my forearms were visible. I paired the dress with long black satin gloves to cover them.

Raoul smiled when he saw me, and it was infectious. I felt my lips curving as I approached him.

"You look beautiful." He said, placing a kiss on my cheek. I could feel myself blushing, and Meg giggled behind me.

"Have fun!" She whispered, before urging me out the door with Raoul.

Raoul held out one of his hands, and I took it, allowing him to lead me into the car. I gasped.

"A limousine! Raoul!"

"It a high class event." He said, shrugging.

"Where are we going?" I asked as I slid into the cool beige leather seats of the sleek white car.

The car began moving. "It's a party that one of the elite is throwing for me."

"For you?"

"Yes." He said shrugging nonchalantly. "For me."

I was stunned into silence. Was this the life of a celebrity? How many parties was he invited to every week? And, I realized, feeling disgusted with myself, how many girls did he woo with his charms and riches?

"Who's throwing the party?"

"Oh," he said with a secretive smile, "you'll see. I'm going to introduce you to them personally."

I nodded, and gave him a nondescript reply conveying my assent. I turned away from him to stare out of the long windows.

My mind had been pleasantly distracted as Meg and I prepared for the big event, but now, I could feel former demons swimming around in my mind.

_It hadn't been a dream. _Mr. Destler indeed met me on the roof of the Opera House, comforting me and listening to my anguish. He had managed to lull me into a blissful sleep, and somehow I had woken up feeling much better, compared to the madness that had driven me to the Opera House in the first place. His voice had calmed me, reassured me, and consoled me. Was he an angel? Or was I pulling this completely out of proportion?

An angel wouldn't work as an architect. That's absurd. But then again, no normal person could come up with designs that beautiful…

I glanced at Raoul out of the corner of my eye. He was normal. He didn't carry me off the tops of Opera Houses or know obscure facts about me. He didn't masquerade as an angel… or as a human. He was simply Raoul. For the first time in a long time, I just wanted to be with Raoul.

"We're here, sweetie." He said, taking my hand lightly. The mansion was lit up, and I could see people dancing inside through the windows.

"Wow."

He smiled and led me through the front doors.

"You'll wow them Christine, I know you will."

I blinked. Who did he want me to impress?

Several women smiled at him, and one even tried to strike up conversation, but it died quickly as she saw me on his arm.

First he got me a drink. I smiled at him, and he made small talk. I watched the way his eyes twinkled and his teeth shined when he laughed. He was such a comfortable person to be around, and he could make me laugh, something I haven't done in a while. I had told him I wasn't looking for a relationship, but maybe I was wrong…

Then he guided me through the crowd, swerving the butlers carrying wine and avoiding the guests dancing on the floor. He approached a couple attired in the most expensive clothing I had ever seen in my life.

"Mom, Dad? I'd like you to meet Christine."

All my breath left me. His parents? He had taken me to meet his _parents_? All warm feelings for him fled my mind. We weren't even dating! I'd only known him for a week and three days!

The two turned. His father smiled widely at me ("Hello Christine! We've heard so much about you.") and I couldn't fight the lightheaded feeling. His mother gave me an appraising look.

"That's an interesting outfit you've got there, Christine. It's not normal to wear long gloves with a dress like that."

I stiffened. _Oh, like meeting his parents hadn't been enough. _I felt anger beginning to course through my veins. "It suits me." I stated composedly, daring her with my eyes to retort.

Her eyebrows rose. "Also, it's considered impolite to keep your gloves on once you've entered the ballroom."

It was an unspoken request. _I'd like you to take your gloves off._ "I didn't know. I apologize." I said icily.

She glowered at me. Raoul and his father were silent, and it irked me. _Raoul, you got me in this mess! Now's your queue to get me out of it!_

"Of course, I wouldn't expect you to know of the customs of the…" she gave me a belittling look, "upper class."

She was staring me down, but it was the one demand that I couldn't obey. Raoul suddenly sprung into action.

"Um, I think I'll take her to dance. I'm glad you guys liked her…" He pulled me away from them and took me out onto the dance floor.

"I'm so sorry Christine. I didn't think she'd… do that."

I was too angry to give any sort of reply. Why had he taken me to meet his parents? Its not like we were engaged.

"But…" Raoul said thoughtfully, "she's right. People don't normally keep their gloves on. Is there any particular reason you did?"

I pulled away from him, and we were the conspicuously still couple on the dance floor.

"Are you serious?" I hissed.

He looked taken aback. "I didn't mean to offend you Christine. It's just not done. And I'm sure you'd look much prettier without the gloves…"

"Oh, you're sure, are you?" I laughed bitterly. "God Raoul you don't know me!" _Seems like I'm saying that a lot lately… _"We've spent a whole whopping three nights together and you think you can ask me to take off my gloves?"

"Christine," he said hesitantly, noticing the people that had stopped to watch us. "Its not that big of a deal. They're just gloves."

"Just gloves! Yes, to you! But you have no idea what lies behind these wretched gloves! Who do you think you are, asking me to take off my gloves? You want to see don't you! You'd probably laugh it off! In years you'll tell people the story of how you wooed the monster!"

"Christine, please!" The press had swarmed. Wild whispers were floating throughout the ballroom, and some photographers were snapping pictures. I didn't care. "Calm down, we'll talk about this later."

"No I won't calm down. And what about this relationship? How can you take me to meet your parents when I met you a week ago? Didn't I tell you to take it slow? Do you think this is a game! It's not Raoul! And I've been hurt too many times to deal with this anymore!"

I ran from him and the photographers, running down the steps and across the driveway. I knew I had no way of getting home except walking. A car honked its horn, and I jumped. I turned to see the limousine coming up beside me. The driver rolled down his window. "Did you need a ride back home, Miss?"

He didn't seem to care at all that I had been there for a total of thirty minutes. "Yes. Yes, thank you." He nodded, and I got slid into the car, pressing my face into my hands.

When I reached the house, I entered quickly, ignoring Meg's, "Chrissie, what happened? Your so early, are you alright?"

Instead I ran up the stairs to my room and slammed the door. Only then, in my solitude did I begin to cry. And, more than anything, through my tears I wished there was a pair of arms wrapped around me, and angel's voice telling me I'd be all right…

**Wow… okay. This was an emotionally tiring chapter. I really don't know what to say about it. I've tried to improve it so many times but… parts of it just don't cut it. Maybe I'm just paranoid. Tell me what you think.**

**Anyway. A few notes: Yes, Christine said she was liking Raoul and she wanted him. But this is not the same Christine who sings All I Ask Of You with Raoul on the roof. She's got backbone. But more than that she's been hurt and she's protective of her deformity, and she can't believe he's asking her to take off the gloves.**

**Also, I tried to form Erik off of the books and movies. He was always there to comfort her, especially when she was sad about her father. In this case he's there in person, but Christine is still conflicted about his personality and stuff, the way she is in the movie. There's a whole lot I probably didn't explain… but oh well. I hope you guys liked this chapter… I'm still not so sure.**

**Review and keep reading!**

**Ice Cliff**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hi.**

**NJrox- Ha. I love your reviews. Of course he's still in my closet! Where else would he be? You think I'd trust him anywhere else? He'd definitely Punjab me if I ever let him out… **

**Yes, I'm a barrel of laughs. I'm sorry; perhaps this chapter will be posted at a time more fitting to you. I hope that liking the descriptive parts means a and b… c is not appealing to me. **

**Lol. I've taught you well haven't I? Yes, Christine needs to learn to love him… well; there will be more angel/Christine meetings, and she'll get over the fact that she doesn't know who he is because he will use his… um, charms, shall we say? He gets rather- to put it lightly- annoyed in this chapter and Christine decides to listen to him. **

**Well she did like Raoul until he asked her to take off the gloves. Like the phantom, Christine is extremely protective of her deformity. The phantom basically rages at anyone who mentions the mask or tries to take it off. Christine is the same way; she feels betrayed that he asked her to take it off even though it's not entirely his fault because he didn't know. Anyway, keep reading!**

**By the way, NJrox, I meant 30 REAL reviews. Humph.**

**Mouse- Thanks, keep reading!**

**CarolROI- Thanks. You're right. The burns cover the front of her neck, her chest, and parts of her arms (about near the elbows) but does not extend towards her shoulder or go all the way down to her wrists. Its mostly her upper arm, but, as you said, not her shoulders.**

**Tink20- Heh. Yeah, there are a lot of things that aren't completely plausible about the story… mostly because I needed a good plot line, lol. I can't say if she'll figure it out by herself… that would be telling wouldn't it? Thank you. I figured the chapter needed some Erik… and I also wanted it to be on the roof to make a point that there will be no RC scenes on the roof in my story! Thanks for the review!**

**Sam (Smee)- Lol, ha ha. Your review is awesome and of course very appreciated. Yes, over break I had sudden bursts of inspiration… it was awesome… (Phantom rox my sox) Yes, you'd better review after you read it! Or Erik will Punjab you! Or I'll rig it so you miss the next continental math league thing… either way! Muhahahaha! … Ahem. Yes, I love you too! And… thanks for the compliment… I hope you still think that after you've read my story! You are my bffl! **

**A note before this chapter begins: the italicized parts, up until now, have been in the past, but they won't always be. Basically they are always with Erik… and that's the important part. The italicized parts always help explain the chapter… so with that said…**

**Chapter Seven! **

"_Huh. That's interesting." _

_Erik smirked at Nadir from where he was sitting across the room. "Talking to yourself, my friend?"_

_Nadir didn't smile, but stood up and dropped the newspaper in front of Erik. "For your perusal."_

_Bemused, Erik gave Nadir a glance before reading the main title on the front of the Local Entertainment section. There was silence for a moment before Erik folded up the paper, his mouth set in a firm line._

"_She certainly gets around." He murmured, incensed. _

"_You have to read between the lines."_

"_I know what it means, Nadir! He tried to see." He cursed under his breath. "People are always so ignorant! They can't understand something they've never felt…" Erik stood, grabbed his jacket and a hat, pulling it over his face._

"_Where are you going?"_

"_Out." He said harshly, before disappearing behind the heavy wooden door._

Meg was strangely absent from breakfast, so I was forced to boil an egg and make a piece of toast myself. She didn't show up until I had already put the dishes in the sink and finished my cup of coffee. She entered quietly, and Shadow immediately ran towards her, yipping and jumping around her ankles.

"Nice to see you this morning." I muttered without looking at her.

"Christine," she began, and I instantly knew something was wrong. I turned towards her, eyebrows raised. She looked worried.

"What is it?"

She lowered her gaze and I followed it to the newspaper that was clutched in her tanned hand. I frowned, and attempted to take the paper from her. She shrunk away from me, holding the paper out of reach.

"What?" I demanded, "What is it? What's happened?"

Meg closed her eyes, sighing. "Its really awful, Christine."

"What is?"

She shook her head. "I can't believe it. It's just so… wrong. It'll completely destroy your reputation. And what about the business? I-"

"Meg! What are you talking about?" I snatched the paper from her unsuspecting hands and she gave a little yelp.

"Christine, I-"

I made a fierce gesture for her to be quiet. What I had read on the front cover made me slightly queasy.

_"Scandals of the Upper Class: Raoul de Chagny and Christine Daae"_

"Oh… my…" There was a picture of Raoul and me fighting next to the title.

I had to sit down halfway through the article. I couldn't believe it.

_"Last night, at a high society party thrown by the prestigious de Chagnys, fighting broke out on the dance floor between Raoul de Chagny and his latest fling. The girl, Christine Daae, age 21, appeared on his arm at the beginning of the party. The couple seemed perfectly at ease, before being approached by Celia Johnson, the girl rumored to be the favorite for Raoul to take as a bride. The young de Changy, however, seems to get his pleasure elsewhere. The fight, apparently, was about a pair of gloves that Raoul had given Daae, and that Johnson had commented on. De Chagny asked for them back, as he was done with Daae's services._

_Daae, incensed, claimed, "We've spent three nights together! How could you?" The young de Chagny attempted to calm down his mistress, but she continued yelling and would not give back the gloves._

_"Do you think this is a game?" She asked him. Daae, finding out that he now wanted to be with Johnson, one of the honest and accepted women of the upper class, proceeded to slap him and leave the party with the last of her dignity._

_Upon asking Celia Johnson, "That Daae girl is a common harlot. She thinks she'll get somewhere in society by pleasing a de Chagny. She's a disgrace and Raoul is ashamed to have been seen with her."_

_Carmen de Chagny, Raoul's mother, says, "Christine was irritable and rude. She showed all the signs of an ill- mannered and ill-bred girl. She apparently thought that Raoul felt something more than lust for her, and was outraged when he wanted his gloves back."_

_Raoul de Chagny was not available for comment."_

I dropped the paper. "I can't believe this." I murmured, horrified. "This is… some really bad stuff."

Meg nodded, and sank down into the chair next to me, looking distressed.

"I can't believe they did that to you."

I didn't respond. I was too numb with horror to formulate any kind of coherent response.

"Did he really?" Meg asked quietly after a moment where all we heard was Shadow's incessant barking. "Did he really try to take off your gloves?"

I sighed. "He didn't know any better… and I… lost my temper."

"But did he…?"

"No." I answered her unasked question. "He didn't see. I ran out." I laughed derisively. "Only fact in this entire article."

"Oh, Chrissie." Meg gave me a huge hug. "I'm so, so sorry about this. You of all people don't deserve this."

"Thanks, Meg." It was a sweet gesture, and at the moment I needed comforting. I had known when I met her that Raoul's mom was not one to cross, but I didn't know the extent she would go to destroy her opponent. I had no idea what Raoul might have thought of the article. I was still annoyed with him, but I was starting to realize that it wasn't his fault. How could he know what was behind the black satin? It just served to remind me that I had deceived him.

And then, there was someone else I was hoping hadn't read the article. Of course, it was silly to assume that anyone as sophisticated as Mr. Destler would waste his time reading the Local Entertainment section, but if he had… I was wondering what he thought of me, and if he believed the article. Not that his opinion was of any importance to me. I was simply… curious. That's what I kept telling myself.

"I just… I thought the upper class had more… well, class. I can't believe he'd do this to you."

"Its not him, Meg. Its not Raoul's fault. His mother could have been behind this- the vile woman- but not Raoul." I sighed, my mood sinking lower. "I can't imagine what he thinks of this. His reputation is more important than mine… I mean he's a celebrity and everything…"

"He didn't have to try to take off your gloves." Meg said quietly. I agreed with her, although I still maintained that he hadn't known what was really behind my gloves.

The doorbell rang, and I jumped. Meg set Shadow, who had been resting on her lap, down on the floor and walked over to the window.

"Speak of the devil," she said, "its Raoul."

"Oh… let him in." Shadow barking at my heels, I approached the door. It swung open to reveal a very disheveled looking Raoul.

"Christine." His voice sounded almost desperate.

"Hello." I looked at the floor. I wasn't comfortable meeting his eyes with the fight we had yesterday. Our relationship felt even more awkward and distanced now. "Please, come in."

Meg closed the door behind him and then silently made her way out of the room. Raoul ran a hand slowly through his hair, and then jumped.

"My God." He put a hand to his chest as if to stop it from beating too hard. Shadow had pounced on him, barking and trying to sniff him. Shadow's front paws were on Raoul's legs, attempting to climb higher so he could lick him. Raoul went extremely pale and took three large steps back, trying to shake off the lively dog.

I frowned, and then pulled slightly at Shadow's collar. "Here, Shadow." I cooed softly, and the dog turned his beautiful head and bounded towards me. "Hey." I said, picking him up and holding him against my chest. I stroked his fur gently before turning back to Raoul.

He swallowed, regaining some of his coloring. "Y-you have a dog."

"Yes." _What an observation._

"I…" His gaze was fixed on Shadow as if he expected him to attack again.

"Relax, Raoul. Shadow wouldn't hurt a fly."

"I wasn't…." Shadow barked again, and leaped from my arms. He raced after Raoul, who had run halfway across the room.

"Christine!" Raoul sounded sick with fear. _He's scared of dogs_. I tried desperately to hold back my laughter. "He's- your dog…! Get him under control."

"He just wants to sniff you." I explained.

Shadow barked happily- he though it was all a game. Raoul looked ready to faint, and I decided to help the poor man.

"Shadow!" I called, and the dog stopped, turning his head between us, as if deciding whom to go to. "Sha-adow!" Wagging his tail, Shadow barked and trotted towards me. "There you go, sweetie." I rubbed him on his head before picking him up and bringing him to the other room.

Meg looked up from her book.

"Shadow." I said simply, depositing the dog on her lap. Her hand came up to stoke the fur near his ears, her eyebrows raised.

"Later." I promised, and then returned to the foyer where I had left Raoul.

He was dusting off his clothes, and I watched with amusement.

"Shadow doesn't shed."

He looked up at me, seemingly embarrassed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to… make a scene."

"Always been afraid of dogs?" I inquired conversationally.

His cheeks heated, and he looked away from me. "I came to ask you if you'd seen that article…?"

"Oh." In my amusement I had temporarily forgotten our quandary. "That."

"Yes, that. I'm furious. I would sue but… freedom of the press and all. I can't do a thing."

"I'm sorry Raoul. I would never want to tarnish your reputation."

"Its not your fault Christine, don't you dare apologize. The press is always searching for dirt on people… you know how it is."

I didn't, of course, know how it was, because I wasn't a celebrity. Still, I nodded and offered him a chair. He thanked me and sat down, and I took the chair next to him.

"Can we get a, I don't know, a retraction or something?"

"Its tricky, Christine, because my mother was quoted and she might have some objections about it. You see, she doesn't-"

"Like me. I know."

"Its not that, Christine."

"Oh, its not?" I snorted. Was he really so naïve? " 'Christine was irritable and rude. She showed all the signs of an ill- mannered and ill-bred girl.' Yes, I'm sure she can't wait for us to marry." I finished sarcastically.

Raoul was silent for a moment, and I plunged on. "And then she went on about your lust for me. God, we're not even going out! And about that, Raoul, didn't you think it was taking things fast, meeting your parents?"

He looked up at me, eyes slightly narrowed. "I just liked you a lot, and thought you liked me too! I wanted to take our relationship to the next level."

"But your parents? After three days? A little hasty, Raoul, don't you think?"

"I don't know what to think!" He stood. "Especially when I take a girl I really like to a dance and she goes insane at me because I asked her to take off her gloves!"

"Don't talk to me like that Raoul! You don't understand! You could never understand!" I stood to face him.

"What's to understand? Half the people think you're a whore and the other half think you belong in a mental hospital!"

"Where are you?" I asked quietly.

"I…" He sighed. "I don't know, Christine. What did I do? I don't get why asking you to take off the gloves insulted you so much."

"You wouldn't." I repeated. "You wouldn't understand."

"So then let me!" He grabbed me upper arms and turned me to see his earnest face. "Let me understand you, Christine. I want to be with you! Just let me!"

He brought his lips against mine in a swift, quick kiss. I could feel my entire body stiffen against the embrace. It was an odd sensation, as if I had a fever. The moment he touched me I went completely cold. His lips moved against mine but I couldn't respond, as if the cold had frozen all the bones in my body. His fingers clutched my arms, but it felt too tight, and I pulled away from his embrace.

He green eyes had softened, looking down at me tenderly. He leaned down in preparation for another kiss, and I let him, my mind working too slow to actually grasp what was happening. I hadn't been kissed in so long that I couldn't remember if this is what it felt like, this cold, bland feeling. I sighed quietly, and Raoul apparently took it as a good sign.

"Oh, Christine." He smiled at me, pulling back. "I want to see you again." He said. "I really, really like you…" His hand rested lightly on my cheek, and I could feel myself blushing.

"I'll… see you tonight then?" I suggested, and his grin widened. "Lets go somewhere more private…"

He nodded, and then placed a kiss on my cheek. "You are amazing." He stated before going out the door. I closed it behind him, not incredibly sure what I was feeling. Did I enjoy his kisses? Did I want him, to be with him? I couldn't know. It happened so fast; I had no time to think about it. I hoped that dinner tonight would help me clear up some of these feelings.

"Christine?" Meg asked. She was leaning against the wall, laying a sleeping Shadow down in his bed.

"Don't ask." I whispered, running a hand through my hair. She shrugged, and I sighed. "I'll tell you later. I promise, I will. I just… can't deal with it right now."

She nodded. "Your cell rang." She tossed it to me. "I picked it up. Mr. Tater wanted to know if you could make a last minute meeting he set up for this afternoon at the Opera House."

"What'd you say?"

"That you could."

I nodded. "Thanks."

"Sure thing." She watched me for a second. "Chrissie, if you-"

"Meg," I whispered, "I can't, not yet. I swear, tonight, when I get home from dinner."

"Alright, honey. Just, relax. You'll be going to the Opera House soon, you love that place."

"Yeah." A slight smile graced my face. "I do."

* * *

Mr. Tater had indeed called a meeting. There were twenty or so people assembled in the lobby in front of the grand staircase when I arrived at one o'clock. The only person I recognized was the short man in glasses who came towards me as soon as I arrived.

"Christine! Glad you could make it. I've set up a tour. All of these people are anxious to get their shows into the Opera House. I thought you could help tell them a bit about construction."

"Of course, Arnold." I smiled. The man was always so nervous and jumpy. "Of course I'll do it."

"Thank you!" He smiled, and then clapped his hands, thus calling the meeting to order.

"All right, you all. I'm glad you could make it. As you know, this Opera House was very recently built and is now open for musical shows and productions such as yourselves. I've invited Ms. Christine Daae to accompany us on this tour. She was involved in the construction of the Opera House and can answer all of your questions in that area." He smiled out across the crowd. "All right then, lets go. We'll begin on the grand staircase…" Arnold led the group up the stairs and I followed right behind him, keeping up with what he was saying and filling in on some of the important details of the rooms we entered.

Arnold, always one to play up the suspense, left the actual theater for last. He finally brought everyone to the room, and there was a collective gasp. I smiled slightly. The room was indeed beautiful. The interior decorators had added red velvet curtains lined with gold to the stage and draped them up near the boxes. The seats were covered in luxurious black velvet and lined with golden braiding. The ceiling was painted with a complicated design of angels and musical notes and clouds. The walls were a pristine white, but there were golden lamps at periodic points hung to brighten the room.

I glanced towards the ceiling once more and frowned. I could faintly hear music above me, but where was it coming from? I looked towards Arnold, but he was happily chatting with someone's who's name I didn't catch. I frowned, and surveyed the rest of the group. They too were absorbed in talking or in examining the room. No one seemed to hear the music.

_The music room_, I realized. _The music room is just above here_._ The music is coming from the music room_. And I had a good idea of who was playing it. Making sure Arnold was thoroughly distracted, I stole away through one of the red curtains and up through one of the narrow passages meant for crew only. I found the familiar slim wooden staircase and climbed it slowly, savoring the music. It was sweet and light, like the touch of an angel's breath to the first bud of spring.

A loud, abrupt change in the music startled me. Now it was full of angry, evil chords, as if the musician was yelling at someone, tearing his hair out with his livid music. I hesitated at the door, the anger worse than ever, swirling around me, making me feel like _I_ wanted to hurt someone. It was an odd sensation to fight off, but I knew that these weren't my emotions. These were emotions spun by a magician of music, one who was very, very angry.

I pushed the door open and he stiffened slightly, but did not turn around. The music had stopped, and all I could hear was echoes of his passing anger.

"Sing." He said.

I approached him. "Pardon?"

"Sing." He repeated. "I want you to sing."

"I…"

"_Just sing_." He commanded, and I could feel the anger radiating off him in waves.

"What should I…?" He was one step ahead of me, launching into a familiar song from the Opera, Hannibal. I tried to calm him down through my singing, making my tones light and sweet. The song itself was bittersweet, the singer begging her lover to remember her when they were apart. It was a song I had practiced often at home with my father. The ending was always hard for me. I never quite got the notes before the finale. But I tried to please my angel the best I could.

I held the last note for a while before closing my mouth and sitting down next to him at the piano bench.

"You're out of breath." He observed coolly.

"I can never get that last part. I'm always out of breath by the end."

"You shouldn't be. That song's completely within your range. Its perfect for you."

I glanced up at him. "I haven't sung regularly for many years. I wouldn't know where to start training myself again."

He didn't say anything for a moment, and I again became curious about the identity of my angel.

"Who-"

"Don't ask me who I am, Christine!"

Startled, I unintentionally leaned away from him. He was clearly still angry.

"H-have I upset you?"

"No, my dear, its not you. It's your _friend_, Mr. De Chagny."

"Oh." He had seen the article.

His golden eyes were suddenly sharp on mine. "Many people won't understand the meaning of that article, but I see right past the fake scandal. He's not going to leave you alone until he sees."

"Sees what?" I challenged him with my eyes.

"People never understand. He's not going to be any different once you show him."

"Y-you can't say that to me!" _He _can't_ know about me._

"Can't I?"

"Stop being so cryptic for a minute! How do you even know?"

"Know what?" He was throwing my game right back into my face.

"Forget it."

"No, I think it's an excellent topic of discussion _Christine_. You know exactly what happened to you when you showed your last _boyfriend_. What makes you think he's any different?"

I blinked, my body going cold. He had mentioned Richard. How did he know about Richard?

"Did you actually trust the human race to be anything but vain?" He asked bitterly, turning away from me. That's it. He knows. _He knows._

"I…"

"Don't." He said softly, "Don't defend them. You don't deserve this, not after everything you've been through."

"Who are-"

"I thought I told you not to ask me!"

I jumped again, stunned by his abrupt mood changes.

"I'm sorry." He said gently after a moment. "But it doesn't matter who I am and I don't want you to ask me again."

"…All right."

"I just want to help you Christine." He turned to me and I felt that fever again, but this time it was very, very hot. His hand had come up to stroke my cheek in a soft, elegant gesture. His hand traced the outline of my jaw before he turned away again. "I want to help you sing."

"Okay." I said breathlessly.

"You have an amazing voice. You could make the angels cry."

"Will you teach me to sing?" I asked hopefully, looking into his beautiful eyes._ Will you be my Angel of Music?_

A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, and I swear it was the most gorgeous thing I've ever seen.

"I'd like nothing better than to help you spread your wings, my angel."

I smiled at him, and his eyes twinkled. He played a soft little tune on the piano and I heard a sigh escape my lips.

"What is that?"

"Just a melody." He said vaguely, before turning back to me. "If we're going to do this, I need you to be completely dedicated. Music is something that requires your all, and you'll find that I accept little below perfection. That means that you'll have to be on time to every lessons, no exceptions. You'll have to be willing to sing everything I bring to you, because I'm your teacher and I understand your voice. And… it means that _this_-" He gestured to the newspaper article I suddenly noticed was sitting on the top of the piano, "cannot happen again. I don't want you to be distracted. I need you to do what I tell you, even if it seems strange, because I know what would be best for your voice."

I nodded. Whatever it took to be with my angel and my music, I would be willing to do.

"Good. I think 5 o'clock is a time that suits you, does it not? I'll keep you here until I see fit. Meet me in this room, and do not be late."

"All right." I said softly, watching him as he gently stroked the piano. "What… what should I call you?"

He turned his gaze to me, and I suddenly felt uncomfortable. I hardly knew who this man was, but I had set already set up singing lessons with him, something I hadn't done in six years. What spell had I fallen under that he could charm me so easily? "Whatever you see fit." He said lightly, but I detected an underlying note of bitterness.

I glanced towards the clock and realized just how much time I had spent with him in the little music room. Raoul would be waiting for me when I got back.

"I have to go." I stood up, and he stood with me. "I'll see you at five, Angel." Then I walked out of the room and closed the door lightly. Leaning on it for a moment, I closed my eyes, trying to wrap my mind around everything that had happened. I sighed, and grinning, began down the stairs.

* * *

Raoul was quite a curious person. This was something I realized as I sat with him in the little booth at the elegant oriental restaurant. He relentlessly questioned me on my interests, my dislikes, my friends, and my job. He was also mildly interesting in my connection with the Opera House.

"I don't know much about Opera." He said lightly, popping part of his rice appetizer in his mouth and swallowing, "but I always thought it was kind of boring."

I frowned at him for a moment. If he was trying to court me, I didn't think that insulting my favorite form of art was the best way to go about doing it. Which reminded me of the reason I had asked him out to dinner. I was getting fed up with the small talk.

"Raoul," I began, "we need to talk."

He shrugged. "I don't really think so. I want to be with you."

I stared at him in disbelief. Was that it? Did he really see it as that simple? He saw what he wanted and he took it? I couldn't believe his blatant ignorance of my feelings. It seemed so unlike him that I was beginning to question whether I really knew the man sitting across from me.

"And I suppose I'm just chopped lived, yes?" I asked icily.

He blinked, looked up into my eyes, and then a smile broke out across his face and he burst into laughter. The anger I felt in that moment spun almost out of control. It brought back memories of my Angel's fuming music. I could hear it swirling around my mind, pushing me to the point where I almost wrung his surfer's neck.

"I'm sorry," He said once he had fully recovered. I was breathing somewhat heavily, still trying to get my anger under control. "Its just… that phrase… chopped liver…!" He guffawed loudly. _My god. I've gotten myself stuck with an idiot._ My anger turned to bitter sarcasm.

"Yes, the phrasing is quite amusing, isn't it? Does the phrase, I don't want to be with you, amuse you also?"

His laughing dried up immediately, and he looked at me seriously. "You don't mean that."

"Oh, don't I?" I was tired of people telling what I did and didn't feel.

"No. You wouldn't have kissed me or met me here tonight if you didn't care for me at all."

I sighed, feeling once again at a loss. I dropped my head into my hands. "I really don't know Raoul. I hardly know you…"

"Stop bringing that up." He said with a slight frown I could see between my fingers. "Why does it matter so much? Everyone starts out not knowing each other. It's the fact that we want to get to know each other that makes the relationship."

"I just… I don't know."

He reached across the table and pried my fingers away from my face. "Give me a chance Christine. I want to make you happy."

I looked at him, at his hopeful eyes, and felt I couldn't deny him. He had faults, yes, but I couldn't blame him. I couldn't refuse him what so many others refused me simply because he was flawed. To do so would go against everything I'd ever stood for. His faults were on the inside; his personality was tailored for the life of a celebrity and he couldn't understand the simplest things such as privacy and pain. I was sure he had no appreciation for music. I also knew that he could be quite vain and selfish. Yet, he was sincere. He wanted to make me happy. I believed that he would do all in his power to do so.

"I will, Raoul. I'll give you a chance."

He smiled, and leaned across the table to press a kiss to my lips. My body went cold again. _Oh, God. I've made the wrong decision._

The realization made me pull back, and Raoul smiled at me. _I can't hurt him_. The other realization made my blood turn to ice as he pulled me in for another cold kiss.

**Yay. Okay, Chapter seven. **

**I'M SOOOO EXCITED! I SAW THE MUSICAL AND IT WAS AMAZING! Okay sorry… but the Broadway show is so amazing and if you haven't seen it I highly suggest you do. Its inspired a new story, but I swore I wouldn't put any up until this one was done… but never fear! I also have new inspiration for this story! Yaaayy!**

**Anyway, how did you like chapter seven? I liked most of it… the date with Raoul seemed a bit off to me but I wrote it kind of late at night and after a couple of days of being away from the computer. So anyway… keep reading my faithful readers! I love you guys! And don't forget to review! **

**IceCliff**


	8. Chapter 8

**Ahhh I'm sorry--- soo much stuff going on, the school year's almost over and there's like finals and papers and…. Ugh, yeah, I'm trying! Although I have to admit, this chapter took incredibly long to write… its unacceptable… I should be punjabbed (jk)…I hope you guys haven't forgotten the plot or anything!**

**Anyway… I'm excited I'm finally getting to write Chapter eight. Like I said, school started up again and I didn't have much time to write because there's been a lot of work. Anyway… I've mapped out up until chapter thirteen… and I just realized that the story's gonna be a LOT longer than that… but anyway… You guys are gonna love chapter twelve… hee hee hee… I'm excited even thinking about writing it!**

**I hope I don't disappoint with this chapter… **

**I've decided to go a bit more into Erik and Nadir's relationship in this chapter because I determined it was a bit shady… and this information will be quite important in the coming chapters…**

**Tink20- Yes, quite a cold kiss. It does go along with my penname. It was a strange meeting between Erik and Christine, but Erik is a rather strange/ mysterious person and he does things like that. Eh, he hates Raoul because Raoul tried to take off Christine's gloves. Thanks for reviewing!**

**Kalaia- Lol, yes she should dump him, shouldn't she… heh… we'll see… I love your enthusiasm! Thanks for reading… I'm soo sorry I didn't post earlier!**

**Soignante- Thank you! Keep reading!**

**Mika- You are quite right. Of course, Erik does have strange control over her emotions… because he's Erik (and I made him that way…) But yeah, conflicting emotions and not understanding herself is going to be a problem. Yeah, I mean obviously I don't like Raoul… and my Raoul is pretty arrogant, but he's not totally evil, and I've tried to portray that in this chapter. But his selfishness will eventually drive Christine away; just not in the way you might originally think!**

**Mouse- Thank you—loyal reader! I hope this chapter pleases… and was worth the wait!**

**Sam- Thanks for the reviews… hope you didn't forget anything! Lol… I told you, chapter nine and ten… I HATE FILLER CHAPTERS MORE THAN I HATE THE CLAPPING MONKEY! Ahem. Keep reading and reviewing! Xox.**

**And, I also want all the readers to read my author's note at the end of this chapter, as it will explain this chapter incase you've gotten the wrong idea from it…**

**And we begin…**

_Nadir watched his friend from across the room. Behind him, the Iranian sun was setting slowly on the horizon. Erik paid no mind to the gorgeous view out the window, or the attractive girl in front of him. Nadir smirked as he remembered Erik often remarking on how "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder." He found Erik's clear frustration with the girl quite amusing. She was not a native Iranian, or she would have been ashamed of her actions. She was from a distant country that Nadir had trouble pronouncing, but she was a stunning girl, with her wisps of braided ebony hair and sun kissed bronze skin. She wore clothing native to her country that showed quite a bit of midriff, and showed off the pieces of silver jewelry she had adorned herself with. _

_Nadir had heard whispers of gossip that the girl had set her sights on Erik, but he refused to listen to them. He had been somewhat concerned for his friend. When he had appeared in Iran, he had seemed quiet and distressed, always glancing suspiciously at people as if he suspected them to lash out at him. Nadir had also witnessed Erik's feral rage, when he had the misfortune of mentioning masks. The incident was not spoken of again, and Nadir never fully understood why his friend was the way he was._

_But Erik had always carried a strange sort of sadness with him, and a real hatred for humanity. Nadir could only assume that there had been a different woman in his life, one that had hurt him deeply. _

_The girl, whose name, Sauda, appropriately meant 'Dark Beauty' had taken advantage of the sunset and had set her charms upon Erik. She had draped her long, slim body over him and was no doubt whispering seduction in his ear. Erik looked over her shoulder at Nadir who lifted his eyebrows slightly. He gently took her slim arms from around his back and pressed them to her chest, pushing her away. She pouted prettily and trailed her fingers down his white cotton shirt. Erik looked away from her and, retaining a mildness that surprised Nadir, pushed the girl away again. He stood up and said something to her softly. The girl sighed, tossed her hair, and gave him a haughty look before sashaying from the room._

_"You were gentle with her." Nadir commented lightly._

_Erik watched as the door closed and left them alone. "She's a woman." He said simply, "And deserves to be treated with nothing less than gentleness. If we were under other circumstances, I would have welcomed her advances… but such as it is…"_

_Nadir considered his friend. "You do not desire female companionship?"_

_"What I do and do not desire is irrelevant, for it has been denied to me and will always remain so." Erik said in a clipped tone._

_"What has made you this way?" Nadir voiced his often-wondered question. "What has shaped you to be so unreceptive to human contact?"_

_"Humanity itself disgusts me. I am apart and I do not wish to ever belong again."_

_"But you can't have missed the looks the women give you. You surely are not oblivious to your good looks."_

_"My _good looks_?" Erik raged, turning his fuming eyes upon Nadir. "Is that all you see? I daresay that's all Sauda saw! What has become of love that it is treated as a game of exterior beauty and deception! Lies, all bleeding lies! And you, who I have considered my friend! What would you think of me if I had not a perfect face? Would you ever come to know me as you have?"_

_Nadir was stunned into silence, and it simply incensed Erik even further._

_"You wouldn't! You would shun me for the fallacy that was my face because we live in a material world of vain people!" Erik shouted, " Do you see now? Do you see why I spurn society in all its false glory? This world, which has taken an innocent girl down with it! She was beautiful inside and outside, until she was scarred, deformed by a fire! The world rejected her even though it knew her inner beauty already! What kind of world is that?" He shook Nadir by the shoulder, his eyes smoldering. "Answer me dammit! Tell me what kind of world we live in and why I should bother accepting it when it has done a damn good job of destroying everything I've ever cared about?"_

_Nadir feared answering Erik's desperately angry question. He was truly afraid for his life. Erik threw him back and stormed out the door. On first instinct, Nadir got up to go after him, but then decided against it. He knew that whatever befell the person that crossed Erik that night would be his fault and his alone._

Meg, I eventually found out, as I stepped into my cozy office on Monday morning, was not the only one who had seen the wretched article. She was also one of the few people who saw how false it was.

The thing that struck me as odd, as I weaved between desks, receiving cold stares from my co-workers, was that the article was so utterly ridiculous. Who ever heard of a whore going crazy because of a pair of gloves? _Honestly_? And these were people who knew me, who had worked with me for six years! How could they turn against me so easily?

Meg gave me a sympathetic pat on the back as I finally made it to my office at the end of the hallway. I smiled briefly at her, and then closed the door behind me, ushering her inside. I was surprised to find a single red rose lying on my desk, tied with a black ribbon.

When I looked at her, she simply shrugged. "I found it in the mailbox for the company when I opened it this morning. There was a small card-" she fished around in her pocket for a moment before producing the white square, "it has explicit instructions that the rose should go to you."

"Who's it from?" I asked, fascinated, picking up the delicate rose. It was thriving and a beautiful in color. I traced my fingers lightly down the stem, smiling slightly as I realized that the thorns had been picked off. Whoever had sent this had taken the greatest care to see that I would enjoy the rose.

Meg handed the card to me and I took it from her outstretched hand. I read from the carefully scripted calligraphy:

"_For the Rose and the Nightingale always knew- Beauty is in the eye of the beholder."_

Meg blinked. "What does it mean?"

"I…" It completely escaped me. "Honestly, I have no idea."

I frowned. "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder." I repeated. I knew what it meant to _me_- but the sender couldn't have meant that. For who knew of my deformity but Meg and myself? _There is another. _The thought pressed at the back of my mind, but I refused to listen to it. _No. He would not send this. He would not. _But he knew… _but he doesn't care for me that way… why would he take the time to send me a rose…?_

"I've heard of that story." Meg said. "And that line about beauty… it doesn't come in anywhere."

"Story?" I inquired, looking at her. Any clue to solve the mystery of this rose would be helpful.

"Yeah. _The Rose and the Nightingale._ You've never heard it…?"

"Well, no. So, what does it have to do with anything?"

"I really don't know. This is kind of strange."

"Yeah…" I stroked one of the silken blood red petals. "But the flower is beautiful. Could you get me some water? I think I'll put it on my desk."

"Yeah, sure." Meg smiled. "I'll be right back." She disappeared out the door and I fell into my chair with a slight sigh.

Where did this come from? The message was so cryptic… and yet I felt it was mocking me. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder… who was I kidding? Society was the beholder, and it would never accept me…

My door opened at instead of the blond head I expected to see, I spotted Robin Thomson and Rebecca Worthington, two interns I had recently hired.

"Yes…?"

They glanced at each other before Robin fixed me with a chilly gaze.

"Ms. Daae. Could we have a word with you?"

I hesitated, for I was sure this couldn't be anything good. "Of course."

They smirked at each other before stepping into my office and closing the door behind them.

"We saw the paper over the weekend. We were wondering if being a whore was a part time job or if this was just a cover…"

My eyes popped and my mouth fell open. I stood up out of my chair. "How-"

Rebecca interrupted me. "Yeah, Robin wanted to know… he's been a little lacking in companionship ever since Tanya left him…" she giggled. "He wanted to know if you could _warm him up_ but wasn't sure if it was right… you being his employer and all."

"But then," Robin put in thoughtfully, "you _were_ doing Raoul de Chagny. I mean, that's pretty high maintenance. So maybe you'll respect my decision to aim a little higher up…"

I couldn't believe it. I honestly couldn't believe what I was hearing. I pointed shaky finger towards the door of my office.

"Out." I said, my words iced with rage. "Out, get out! And don't expect to come back to work tomorrow!"

They quickly shuffled out the door in the face out my mad wrath and nearly toppled Meg as she reentered.

I sighed. I had almost forgotten about the rose. She frowned when she saw my face.

"What is it?" She asked, taking the flower from my fingers and putting it in the cup. She placed it on my desk and looked back at me. "What did they say to you?"

"Nothing. Just… the article…" I made a disgusted noise. "They're so immature. Is the whole world this way? I just… I hate humanity!"

"Chrissie," Meg said gently. "You don't hate humanity. Some people are just ignorant like that. Don't be stereotypical. You'll end up being a recluse for the rest of your days."

"Whatever. I can't deal with this. I have to go…"

"Oh, Chrissie, I'm sorry. You can't go off today. You have a meeting."

"With?" I demanded. If it wasn't important, I was going to cancel it, go home, and crawl up into a ball with Shadow and cry.

"Mr. Khan and his partner."

"Oh." I sighed. I suppose that counted as important.

Mr. Khan and Mr. Destler showed up on time, as expected. I had gone to my superiors and all others it concerned to ask them about the designs Mr. Destler had submitted, and they fell in love with them as I had. The client, Mr. Silver was hardly interested in the architecture of the house, and so he simply glanced at the design and nodded. He only wanted a large, affluent mansion to show off to his business friends. He was currently out on business in Mexico and supposedly could not be bothered.

Mr. Khan found that quiet annoying and spoke against him.

"Its not for us to judge." I said, shrugging. God knows I've had enough people judging me today… "He didn't seem to care much about the design in the first place… so why bother him at all?"

Nadir frowned at me. "Because its his house. He still needs to be consulted and it would be a great help if he wasn't a country away."

"I spoke to his secretary this morning before you arrived. She said that he was expected back within the week."

Nadir grunted his continued disapproval, but said nothing else on the matter. Instead, we began working on the preliminary arrangements.

Mr. Destler remained completely silent. No matter what subject I happened to mention, or what comment Nadir made on the design, he did not utter a single word. However, his golden gaze lingered on me the entire time, watching me as a hawk would watch its prey. His eyes followed every move of my hand and every tilt of my head. It completely unnerved me to the point that I tried making offbeat comments that he would _have_ to respond to, or pointing to specific points of the design to get his eyes off me. It was to no avail.

Nadir seemed mostly oblivious to it all. He continued to talk to me, and I attempted to make coherent conversation. Each time my eyes met those burning gold ones, I felt like I was falling… and it was a long way down those yellow depths…

By the end of the meeting we had figured out the time and place of our next meetings to finalize the blueprints. We agreed to survey the building site and plot it in accordance with the original design.

Nadir smiled at me. "Very good. So we'll meet again on Thursday, yes?"

I sifted through the papers that had been strewn on my desk during the course of the meeting and stuffed them back into the thin manila folder. "Right. Thursday. Yes, I'll be there."

"Excellent." Nadir took his hat into his hands as I showed them to the door of my office. I smiled at the pair of them.

Once Nadir was out the door, Mr. Destler found a reason to speak to me.

"Five o'clock. Don't be late."

* * *

Raoul called my cell phone shortly after the departure of my angel and his Iranian friend. He invited me to lunch at a restaurant near the beach, and I accepted. 

He had already gotten a table for us in the corner near the window, and I smiled at the perfect view of the ocean.

"Hello." He stood and offered me a seat.

I smiled. "Thank you, Raoul."

He nodded, placing a kiss on my cheek before sitting down across from me.

"I took the liberty of ordering for you. I hope you don't mind."

"Hmm?" I put my menu down. "Oh, sure. What did you order?"

"Caesar salad.I've heard that they make it very well here."

"Oh, great! I love ceasar salad!" I smiled widely as I saw the waitress approach with our trays. Raoul had ordered a plain garden salad. The waitress placed the heavenly looking salad in front of me and I attacked it as soon as she left. I hadn't realized how hungry I was.

Raoul laughed slightly as he watched me.

"What?" I asked innocently, stuffing another piece of chicken in my mouth. "Its good."

"Nothing." He said, dipping his fork into the mound of lettuce. "You're just delightful."

I muttered something incoherent and pierced a crouton with my fork, bringing it to my mouth.

Raoul looked longingly out the window, and I smiled slightly at him. "Thinking about surfing?"

"Yeah." A lazy smile passed over his face. "It seems like I haven't been on the waves in years. Really I practiced two days ago. But I'm used to living on the ocean you know? I'm addicted to the taste of the ocean spray and the feel of the salty air on my skin in the morning..."

It was times like these when I felt the most comfortable around him. When he was just himself, not trying to force me into a relationship. When he was just another guy, who loved his sport as much as I loved my music. It was times like these that I felt… if he gave me the chance, I might be able to love him.

He turned to me and saw my finished plate. "You devoured it."

I laughed and looked down. "Indeed."

"Would the mademoiselle like to take a walk on the beach? It's a beautiful day."

"Oui, Monsieur." I said laughingly. I had taken French through high school and I still loved the language.

"Good. I'll pay here. I'll meet you outside."

"Thanks Raoul." I said quietly, standing up from my seat and walking towards the exit. I couldn't have convinced him not to pay for me, it was something he always insisted on, and I knew he had enough money to do it.

Stepping outside, I watched the blue waves crash lightly onto the sandy shore. A tall man ran along the edge of the water, trying to keep up with the shaggy beige Labrador retriever that ran beside him. A woman in a white bikini sat lounging on a beach chair, a wide beach hat perched loftily on her head. Another teenager stood in a yellow terrycloth cover-up, her friends crowding around her in a kaleidoscope of identical hot pink and blue terrycloth cover-ups.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Raoul's hands wrapped around my middle, and I stiffened slightly.

"Yes," I replied, slinking out of his grasp. "Let's get closer to the water."

He followed me as I began down the wooden stairs from the porch of the restaurant.

"Do you come here often?" He asked.

"Not really." I admitted softly, trying to keep the edge out of my voice. There were only so many things one could do on the beach without a bathing suit, and I had never felt comfortable in one. The material irritated my scars.

"Its nice." He said, looking down at the soft sand we were standing on. "I've been to many, many beaches. But I always loved this one… where I first learned to surf." He watched me for a moment, and then his eyes lit in a wicked smile.

"Would you like to learn to surf, Christine?"

I looked at him in horrified surprise. "Surf? _Me_?"

He shrugged. "Sure, why not?"

"I... I… Raoul, I _couldn't_. I can't!"

"Of course you could. Its not that hard, really…"

He didn't get it. He didn't understand, and he would never understand… and I couldn't explain it to him.

"I can't surf." I said with icy finality. "I couldn't and I won't."

"Come on, Christine. Its great- you'd love it!"

"I wouldn't! Lay off, Raoul, I won't do it!"

He looked taken aback for a moment and stared at me strangely. "I just thought you'd want to share it with me…"

I sighed. He was so irritating- why was he trying to guilt me? It wasn't my fault I couldn't surf! God knows the last time I tried to swim… what a horrible memory that was… with Richard… I quickly pushed the memory to the back of my mind. That was for another time…

I found Raoul to still be looking at me. "I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to insult you I just… don't swim."

He frowned. "If it's a matter of swimming I could easily teach you…"

"No, it's not a matter of swimming!" I fumed. Was he really this stupid, or was he doing this purposely? "Just, forget it Raoul. It was nice of you to ask, but it is something I cannot do."

"Just another thing I'll have to accept then, right? Like your inexplicable behavior at my parent's party… now this…"

I brought a hand to my head, shaking it slightly. Did he know how close I was to strangling him?

"Yes. I suppose it is another thing you'll have to accept. I never said it would be easy to date me." I added bitterly. He really had no idea what he had gotten himself into… tangling himself with a girl who looked like a monster… I was deceiving him, but I was quite sure in the end it would be myself with the broken heart.

"But it's my choice, isn't it?" I removed my hand from my eyes to see him looking at me earnestly. "I really like you Christine, and so I'm bound to accept whatever little eccentricities you might have… hey- we all have those unstoppable like quirks right?"

Damn him! I was never sure of my feelings for him. I had finally thought I was sure- I thought I hated him! But then he goes and says something so innocent and- God help me, adorable- that I can't help but laugh with him. How dare he be so compassionate? Why couldn't he just fling me away, eccentricities or not?

"Come on." He grabbed my hand and pulled me along the sand.

"What?"

He shrugged. "I just want you to see the ocean… isn't it great?"

I smiled. "You really love it."

"That, I do." He smiled down at me before dropping his gaze to the ground. "Oh, Christine, look," he said tenderly, leaning down in the ground. I knelt beside him.

"What is it?" I asked curiously.

"A little turtle. Oh, poor little guy- probably is the last of his family to get into the ocean… lucky he hasn't been eaten yet."

I smiled at the small animal as it continued its crawling towards its new home. Such was the way of life I suppose- the turtle knew the dangers of the ocean, but it was where it belonged. There could be no other home for the baby turtle. And against all odds, I knew that this turtle was a fighter. It would survive.

It gave me new hope, and I stood up feeling rejuvenated. Raoul stood up next to me, and I even allowed him to kiss me. I believed that everything would work itself out, eventually…

* * *

It was a vastly different world that I stepped into at precisely five o'clock that afternoon. If asked, I could not have pinpointed the exact change, for it wasn't new wallpaper or a new shine on the piano. It wasn't something tangible- it was a presence… an almost majestic air about the room that made me feel like I was stepping into another dimension… a place with only me, and the Angel of Music. 

Perhaps, if asked, I would have said it was he, perched on top of the piano seat, running his fingers over the piano so gently, agilely, as if the piano were simply an extension of his fingers. I might have admitted that seeing him sitting there in his dark magnificence made me feel faint and at the same time exhilarated- as if he had brought a but of heaven down to share with me…

But, what truly brought me humbly before him, ready as a dog before its master, was the way he turned to me, his face of the beauty of angels, and spoke my name. Oh god! has any human on this earth ever heard such a truly amazing sound? That I doubt- for when he said it I trembled with its brilliance, and I knew I had been graced with a true Angel of Music. His voice excited me as much as it scared me for the power it had over me, the way I found myself never wanting to leave this strange sanctuary beside my angel… It was only my first music lesson, and yet I was already yearning for more!

We spoke of many different songs and arias. When I finished singing my first aria, he frowned, turning from the piano to consider me.

"What is it?" I asked hesitantly. I was afraid that I hadn't pleased him… maybe my singing was truly atrocious?

He stood up, coming to stand before me. I found myself looking up to meet his eyes. I had never realized quite how tall he was, but he towered at least a full head above me.

"Your stance and your breathing are far from perfect."

I blinked, and he held out a hand against my stomach. "Here." He said, frowning, pressing against me, slightly. "Breath from here. You must make sure you take your breaths deep from here, or the sound will lack richness and you will be out of at the end of easy songs, much like you are now."

I blushed slightly under his light criticism as he continued.

"Roll your shoulder back and stand up straight. Yes- good." I complied with his demands. "Your feet should be slightly apart. Yes… keep you head up, but you might tilt your chin slightly down… right."

He went back to the piano and sat down.

"Again." He said, and I launched into the same song. I was amazed at the difference all of the simple changes had made. He smiled slightly when I finished.

"How did it sound?" He asked.

"I thought it sounded nice." I offered uncertainly. I didn't want to sound too arrogant.

"It did." He said simply. He turned back to the piano and I sang several more pieces from Operas and Musical shows.

When I had finished the last one, he beckoned me forward to sit next to him on the bench.

"You've done very well for today." He said. I smiled and opened my mouth to thank him, but he simply continued- "Of course, you're far from perfect. There are many things we shall need to improve on in the coming lessons, but it is all something to look forward too. You will eventually triumph."

I bowed my head in a reverent act of submission. I only wanted to please my angel- if he thought I could do it, then I would strive to achieve it. Afterward, it seemed strange that I was so comfortable with this man that I hardly knew. It was odd how I simply accepted his appearance in my life. But when I was with him in the enchanted little music room for our first lesson, the only thing I feel is belonging- home.

* * *

Three weeks flew by surprisingly quickly- a flurry of meetings and decisions that made me feel giddy and excited like I hadn't felt since the completion of the Opera House. Although, looking back, it could also have been the absence of Raoul that made it so much better. He had been busy all week meeting with newspapers and doing other celebrity- type things. 

I was currently on my way to another meeting with Mr. Destler and Mr. Khan in their office. I had only been to their office a couple of times, for the preferred place of meeting was mine. Over the weeks we had worked on the final blueprints. So we had worked on the design alone, hardly bothering to consult Mr. Silver. Depression often hit me as I worked on the heavenly design. So much genius, so much beauty… all to go to waste for some portly man who wouldn't care a fig whether the grand pillars in the front were of Roman design or the grand staircase connected all three floors in a gorgeous, flowing set of wood that put the final touch of magnificence into the already brilliant house.

I pulled into the tiny parking lot outside the dreary building. Walking towards it, I vaguely wondered how they could bear to come in every morning to such a gloomy office. The mere sight of it made me unhappy.

I was received by Nadir who was quickly walking out the door.

"Mr. Khan?" I inquired, startled.

"Oh, Ms. Daae!" He seemed somewhat unnerved. "I'm sorry, I completely forgot about our meeting… I have pressing matters that need to be attended to… I simply have to go… Mr. Destler would be happy to meet you though…" He said, bidding me a distracted goodbye and hurrying outside.

_Mr. Destler. _Of course the other thing that made the three weeks pass so fast were my music lessons.

Each time I stepped into that private little room on the top of the wooden staircase my heart melted. The room was my haven; bringing music and light into an overwhelming crescendo that brought me unending ecstasy. The singing made me feel light and soft, like the angel that taught me. He was a gentle master, coaxing the harder notes out of my throat. But at the same time he was rather harsh- he was unrelenting and didn't accept imperfection. He always said that I 'wasn't reaching my potential' and often used that excuse to keep me there for hours. But I found that I didn't mind. I loved the time I spent with him and the piano, because it brought back memories of my childhood and my dear, sweet father. I never mentioned him, and neither did the angel, but he was always an unspoken ghost, just hovering below consciousness.

I was beginning to suspect that my angel had known my father. The way he spoke of him and the hints he dropped about my personal life led me to believe that my angel was more connected to me then I had originally realized.

"Ms. Daae." His calm voice startled me out of my reverie, and I jumped. He had always set work and music apart, insisting that we stay formal outside of the tiny room.

"Hello." I said, somewhat shakily. There was something about him that made me feel inadequate.

"Please," he said softly, gesturing to the inside of his office, "come in." I followed his darkly inviting hand into the room and he closed the door swiftly behind me.

"Now, I believe we were going to finalize the blueprints." He stated, reaching into a drawer in his desk and pulling out a briefcase. "I've been working on this for most of the week…" he pulled out the thin piece of lined paper. "I think it will be to your liking."

Glancing at him, I took the paper lightly out of his fingers, trying not to gasp when my hand touched his.

I looked down and instantly fell in love. It was impossible to describe the final beauty he had put into the building, but it was enough to make me feel faint. Groping behind me for a chair, I sank down, unconsciously bringing a hand to my heart. Above the paper I saw him smile slightly before kneeling down next to me.

"Incredible." I whispered, lowering the paper to watch him in awe.

"Thank you." He said quietly, taking it from me and folding it back into the case. "I thought you might agree."

"I… how do you do that? How can you bear to create something so beautiful without destroying your soul in the process?"

His eyes met mine in barely concealed shock. "What do you mean?"

I sighed, slipping into a memory. I wanted to share this with someone… to have him understand…

"Once… once I composed a piece of music. At first, it was a release. I poured into that one piece everything I had in my soul, every emotion I'd ever felt. And then… I began changing it, demanding perfection. I obsessed myself with the music. I wanted so badly to create something beautiful that it nearly destroyed me. I converted my soul into sound but it wasn't _beautiful_- and suddenly I couldn't bear the sound, I couldn't bear the music or its wretched lyrics. I kept trying to hear beauty- the beauty I knew was there because I used to hear it every time I played- but it was gone! All I heard was my blasted loneliness and my sadness and I couldn't bear it… it was destroying me. One night," I frowned, my memories becoming more distorted as I tried to remember that one foggy night, "one night I was playing… I was crying… I think I might have fainted from grief… I honestly thought I was going to die from that torturous music… a pair of arms caught me and dragged me to my room. After that, I locked up the piece, away from me… so it wouldn't taint my soul… so I wouldn't taint it…"

I dared to look up and him, afraid that he would think I was insane. His eyes held beautiful empathy. "Sometimes pouring my soul into my work exhausts me to the point that I think I will never create again… that I will just lay down and never wake up again… Sometimes I think I am finally done creating, and I can finally put down my pen and revel in what I have done… but it is never enough. I long to create that one piece that is truly beautiful… I, too had a creation that obsessed me. I spent days at a time, doting upon the music as if it were a wife… a lover… I wouldn't eat or sleep- time had no meaning to me as I created my sound… my life all in notes… you were right, Christine. It was an incredible release. Until it turned sour. Until I began seeing how distorted I had become through the hateful music that spurted through my fingertips. I, too locked up that piece so I should never again see the pit of primitive human emotions that I constantly denied were inside of me. The music barred me and I couldn't bear it, either. I couldn't accept that final release… I couldn't accept what I had become in the face of that mocking, cynical music that defined me… all that I had done… _Don Juan Triumphant_…" he grimaced slightly, "was my obsession. I often said that when I finished it I would take it to my bed and never wake up… and I was probably right. That piece nearly destroyed me…

"But that's what creating is all about Christine. Don't you see? If I couldn't bear to release the darkness of my soul into a haunting piece of music, then how could I create a beautiful building? You need to accept both halves of everything… you need to see what's not always obvious… and you need to be able to face what is obvious." His voice grew quiet. "You need to trust enough in both halves to know that sometimes… sometimes things can be deceiving… something that could be beautiful- like I once though of _Don Juan Triumphant_- can also be evil… dark… and you need to be able to live with that. Nothing is one hundred percent clear… everything good- every beautiful piece of music- has a bit of darkness, temptation… sin… and every evil has light… everyone evil has a chance… one chance at redemption." His eyes caught mine in a swirl of golden sadness that nearly made me tear. But he was right- in that dark sadness he held a prick of hope…

He once again drew out the design of the building. "The yin-yang." He stated, showing me the bottom of the paper where one would normally see the architect's signature. I looked at him in confusion. "I always sign my work with the yin-yang. It reminds me- yes, I have created something beautiful. But there was pain as well as peace. The yin-yang is powerful, Christine. There are many beautiful people in the world. But are they all good people? No. Beauty is often shrouded with darkness… much like the white side of the yin-yang. And maybe… maybe something ugly… could really be beautiful, if someone took the time to look into his soul… where the light is…" He gazed at me, and I felt my breath catch. Did he mean that he could see into my soul… that I wasn't ugly? Or… _his _soul…?

"I…" My fingers gently traced the small yin-yang at the bottom of the page. "It's a beautiful philosophy." I said finally. "One I never thought of before… light and dark play a role in everything don't they? Deformity- there's a dark topic." I was quickly becoming cynical, but I couldn't help myself. "But… deformity can be beautiful, right? Someone would be able to see… someone must be able to see!" He opened his mouth but I shook my head.

"You're wrong! Who will be able to see? No one! Maybe its easy for you to say it- that ugliness has beauty. But how would you know? You're perfect looking!"

His eyes instantly darkened. "Have you understood nothing of what I've told you? Appearances are deceiving! They don't mean a blasted thing!"

"Yes? Well you've never experienced the loss of beauty- how would you know?"

His voice was at my ear, harsh and angered, as his fingers grasped my shoulders. "Don't judge me, Christine." He whispered dangerously. "Beauty is a trifling thing today- full of lies and deceit… forcing people to wear… _masks_. Don't ever assume that what you see is real."

There was a deafening silence. I understood some of what he said. It was obvious he didn't want me to judge him… but who really wants to be judged? I didn't understand his view on beauty… he was so gorgeous… what had made him like this?

"I'm… I'm sorry." I finally whispered. "I didn't mean to… I won't…"

He pulled back to look me in the eyes and I suddenly realized our awkward position. He was still holding me, and his grip had loosened so it was almost a… pleasant sensation. His face was close to mine… closer then I had realized, as my gaze flitted over his perfect features towards his lips… my whole body flushed.

"I didn't mean to shout at you." He said softly, pulling away from me. My arm tingled where he had touched me and I had to stop myself from reaching out towards him again.

"Its all right."

He smiled ruefully at me. "Shall we go?" He asked, extending one elegant hand towards me.

"What?"

"We're pretty much finished here. We've cleared up the business on the final design right?" I gave him a small nod, and he continued, "Its about four- thirty. I figured I could drive you to the Opera House…"

I watched him for a moment, his eyes still burning slightly from our argument, but on the whole, a warm, inviting golden color. Things had changed between us. I couldn't say when or how it had taken place, but now, watching his eyes and his outstretched hand, I became suddenly aware of the change. I was conscious of the fact that while he was my teacher, and my angel, he also remained a man.

I put my hand in his, and he clutched it, leading me out of the room surely but slowly. I fought to keep down a gasp. This second time my flesh met his seemed so different from that first handshake so long ago. I was so much more aware of the contours of his skin against my palm, his long finger tangled with my slender ones…

When we arrived in the room, we went through the scales quickly before moving on to some of the older songs we had been working on. Finally he drew out his folder and rummaged through it for a moment.

"Here." He said, handing me a new sheet of music. "I think you're ready."

I frowned, reading over the lyrics. It was an aria from an old opera that I had never heard of, but he seemed adamant that I should sing it. I shrugged slightly and began trying to work out the notes. He helped me through some of the harder parts and eventually I felt comfortable with the new music.

It was something I had gotten used to in the three weeks we had been having music lessons. He was always able to teach me music- songs that would have taken me weeks to learn- in a matter of hours. I often admired his great knowledge of music and operas. I began to realize how much I looked up to him, how attached I was becoming to my musical guide.

"Christine." He said warningly, and I was startled out of my trance.

"Sorry." I muttered softly.

"Hmm." He grunted, and I could tell he was getting annoyed. "Again." He stroked the beginning keys to the piece.

I sang. It was always a new experience, singing for him. It could take me farther then any fairytale book, away from the confines of my deformed body and up into heaven where I felt equal to my angel. He was the epitome of perfection- his voice was silky and often made me tremble, his face seemed sculpted by the gods, and he radiated a sort of power and sensuality that completely charmed me. Over our time together, I had found myself spending ridiculous amounts of time pondering his wonderful, golden eyes. They haunted almost every waking thought with their intensity. Sometimes I thought I could see hints of sadness, traces of ghosts he kept hidden, and my heart went out to him. I wanted to help him, to give him even a shred of the compassion he had shown me.

Raoul sort of hovered in the background. When I was with my angel, his name never once crossed my mind. I was too consumed by the angel's magic…

I also spent an unhealthy amount of time thinking about his lips. God help me, but they were beautiful. They were soft, perfectly shaped, tools of splendor. I could feel myself shiver at every drop of music that fell from those lips. And, despite how hard I tried not to, I often found my thought wandering to those shapely lips when someone else's were pressed against mine…

"Christine!" He banged the keys. I jumped once more, this time a little more than grateful to be snapped out of my traitorous thoughts. "You must concentrate!"

I felt myself blushing, but more for my sinful fantasies than anything else. I had to stop thinking so out of my league…

"_Christine_!"

I jumped at his thunderous voice. "I know. I know, I'm sorry… I just…"

"Nothing! Nothing, Christine, can excuse lack of attention when it comes to music. You must be dedicated! What is going through your mind that you cannot grasp that simple concept?"

I shied away from his anger and dropped my gaze to the floor. "I'm sorry, Angel."

He sighed. This was the response I always got when I addressed him. "Christine-" He seemed to think better of whatever he was going to say. "Sit."

I obliged, sliding down next to him on the slim piano bench. I could feel his warmth on my side, and his leg brushed up against mine. My breath caught for a moment, and I swallowed, trying to keep my body from flushing.

"Christine." He whispered, and I felt a shiver work its way down my spine. He knew how that tone affected me, and he had used it more than once to persuade me into singing an aria that frightened me. His fingers brushed the piano in a confident stroke, and I recognized the little melody he had played for me on our first lesson. It was short and sweet, sounding slightly Spanish in origin. He played it again, this time adding a new part to it.

"Oh!" I exclaimed softly. "That's nice. Did you…" His eyes looked down into mine and I had to blink to regain my composure. "Did you compose that?"

"Yes." He said serenely. "I wanted to show you the beauty of music. It's all at your disposal Christine. You possess an extraordinary talent- a beautiful instrument that could make the coldest men weep at its magnificence. Yet you destroy it with your lack of life. Your lack of… passion." He whispered the last word and my eyes met his again, unable to look away. "You see Christine, music is your soul. And without life, it would surely die. You need to feel the notes, to _be_ them. Pour your spirit into your singing and you will triumph."

"Kind of like… Mona Lisa." I said quietly, and he glanced at me bemusedly.

"What do you mean?"

"Well… Mona Lisa." I shrugged. "She… you don't know if she's really smiling, right? It's all your interpretation. She could be smiling flirtatiously- maybe she's with her love. And yet it could be that she's not really smiling at all. It could be the fading away of a smile because of a shattered heart. Da Vinci poured infinite emotions into that one painting, so that Mona Lisa holds all the pain, and all the joy of a lifetime. That's… that's the passion you want me to have when I'm singing. If it's a sad song, then my singing should be a sob of notes…"

"Exactly." He said softly, looking into my eyes. He played his melody again and I vaguely heard him whisper, "Mona Lisa."

I watched him in something akin to awe for a moment as he worked through an entirely new section of the song; one I assumed he had just come up with.

Then he turned to me. "Would you like to start again?"

"Yes."

"Alright. Now, remember. This girl, she's singing out about her love. She can feel his touch even though he's not there. She can remember his feel and his scent and she sings out about her desire. So, you may see that this song requires passion. If not, it becomes a simple string of words. It's your emotion that makes it real Christine. This song is one of desire. Be Mona Lisa." I nodded and he pounded the keys of the beginning chords of the song that never failed to startle me. I watched him, my lips forming the words, trying to be passionate. I knew I was displeasing him, as his face distorted into a grimace. He abruptly stood up and stopped playing.

"Keep singing." He said, and I obeyed, watching him approach me with sure and slow steps. I could feel my face begin to blush under the heat of his gaze. He stepped closer to me. One more step and he would be close enough to touch, to kiss…

"Sing." He said loudly and quickly advanced on me, grasping my shoulders in his graceful fingers. A little gasp escaped me and he frowned, pressing a hand against my throat. "Sing."

His fingers drew away and I ignored the slight choking feeling they had left in their wake. I opened my mouth again and allowed the words to pour out, my gaze locked on his. One of his hands stroked a piece of hair behind my ear, making me shiver as he made contact with the more sensitive skin. He began to lean forward, his lips hovering just above mine. _My God…_ My eyes closed and I could feel his breath against me. _…he's going to kiss me…_ I sang still, not wanting to break the incredible moment.

His lips did not touch mine. If he or I had moved another half an inch, they would have met, but as it was, I could barely feel the touch of them as I formed each word. It was torture. My body was tingling from where his hand was caressing my neck and my lips were on fire from each brush against his. I wanted to touch him, to feel him, even though it would be so, so wrong… I kept singing.

"Sing." He drew the word out and it sounded almost like a hiss. His breath was suddenly absent from my face and I opened my eyes. I gasped lightly, tightly shutting my eyes for the sensation of his wondrous lips against my neck. I sang and could feel him absorbing some of the vibrations of my voice. He continued pressing light kisses to my skin and I couldn't help a slight moan interrupt my notes as I felt his hand stroking the light hairs at the back of my neck, underneath my hair…

The crescendo was coming on; the song was almost over. His lips were working fast, not leaving an inch of my upper throat untouched. I sang for him, and only him…

He was gone in an instant as I hit the last note, his hand falling away from me. I opened my eyes and felt my voice falter, watching as he quickly slid onto the piano bench. _He must be trying to kill me… _In that one moment, as I watched him sitting gracefully at the piano, my long- repressed desire for the angel grew to an almost irrepressible point, making my voice swell with emotion.

"Don't stop singing." He said hoarsely, and he pressed one finger onto a slender black key. It blended perfectly with my voice as I let the note die.

There was silence for a fleeting second in which all I could hear was my heavy breathing and my blood rushing against my ears. It wasn't fair, what he had done to me… my eyes fluttered shut as I felt tears rise up in my throat… I could still feel his lips against my neck.

"You've done it, Christine. You've finally done it. I knew you would."

My breath caught at hearing his voice again, and I opened my eyes to see the first real smile he had ever given me break out across his features. _Oh, God, his mouth…_ It was too much to look at him…

I blinked, watching dazedly as he turned to beam at me. His words finally reached me… _Did… what?_ Through my haze I recognized the note his finger was still resting on. _Oh. Yes. _The C- Sharp. I had finally hit the high C- Sharp. Despite everything, I felt a tiny laugh working its way up my throat. _All of that… all of it just for a C Sharp…_

He grinned. "I knew all you needed was passion, Christine, don't you see? I knew you could do it, if you only felt it, if you only _felt_ what you were singing…!" He happily turned back to the piano and once again played the notes of his creation.

I still felt rather overwhelmed, my hand coming up of its own accord to stroke my neck where his precious lips had touched it. Had he really only been trying to get me to sing? It was so utterly wrong what I was feeling, the yearning I had for him. I had felt passionate, yes, but not only about the music. _Wrong, wrong, wrong… _I had spent the last weeks with him learning the music of heaven not to give into this earthy lust.

"Christine?" He prompted, and I glanced towards him, feeling my body erupt in tingles as our eyes met. _I can't do this… I _have_ to get out of here… away from him…_

"Y-yes?" I answered unsteadily.

"I need you to be able to do that with all your songs." I blinked. I wouldn't be able to take it if he tried to do that every time I sang… "When it's a sad song, think of your losses. When it's happy, think of… your music. Only when you become the music do you reach your full potential. That note- that one glorious note that you hit at the end of the aria- that's the kind of note I need to hear from you all the time."

I nodded, a frozen smile on my face. Perhaps somewhere in the back of my mind I was celebrating my triumph, but all I could think about was the way I achieved that success.

"Tomorrow I'll have a new song for you." He stated. "We can explore more now, more because I know you can reach your full potential." He smiled slightly once again and gestured towards the door. I briefly wondered how he could be so unflustered. Hadn't that song- those _kisses_- affected him at all?

I gazed at him. "Good night, Christine." He said simply. I numbly made my way towards the door. _It hadn't meant a thing to him. _He had only been to trying to make me sing with passion… I closed the door behind me. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right that he could make he feel the way he did without batting an eyelash. How could he be so close to me, almost kissing my lips and caressing me the way he had without meaning it? How could you act tenderness like that?

I sighed. I had never felt such wonderful sensations on my neck… my neck was usually off limits…

The stray thought brought me to a moment of dumb horror. I felt frantically around my turtleneck… I couldn't let him see… I could _never _let him see…

I sighed, collapsing on the bottom of the stairs. He hadn't seen. I felt sudden tears come to my eyes. _Of course he hadn't seen._

**…_Yeah_. Okay, well! That would be chapter eight… which is vastly different from the way I planned it, but whatever… I'll stick all that extra stuff in chapter nine… lol.**

**So. There have been some significant changes in the characters! I would like you all to know that this is not the chapter that she falls in love with him. Here, she's just lusting after him. Its really important that you guys know that… she isn't in love with him but she's realizing that she wants him… and she wasn't use to the way he was making her feel, so she got quite emotional in the end… **

**Yes. So…. Uh…I want to know what you guys think… was it too fast, too… anything? There was a point to the kissing during the music lesson… I didn't just do it randomly because I like the pairing… no its definitely part of the plot…**

**So, yeah… REVIEW!**

**Thanks for reading!**

**IceCliff**


	9. Chapter 9

**Yay, I'm getting to write this chapter! I'm hoping I can finish this chapter in a day to post for you guys… I feel so bad about not posting chapter eight… for some reason that chapter really defeated me for a while. I just couldn't write it!**

**Anyway… eh, thanks to advice from a friend on the subject, I've decided to include some… interesting things in this chapter… Just read the author note at the end in case you're all… WHOA! **

**I'm glad you guys all liked the last chapter! It was unbelievably long!**

**Mikabronxgirl- Thanks. Yeah, she is. You are absolutely right. Raoul is that annoying but funny and kind guy that tags along… Christine has conflicted emotions about him… but she's kind of hesitant about feeling any emotion at all because of her scars. Erik is… different, as you said. They connect in a different way… in an almost inexplicable way; one that Raoul can't even come close too. There's a major difference, and Christine is going to start noticing that. About having something to hide… well, I think you've touched upon more than you realize. Both are holding back from each other… but eventually their relationship will lead to confessions that may cause them to question everything from the beginning (I love being cryptic!)… Lol, yes Raoul does some pretty stupid things… but we still love the fop (even if we do want to Punjab him). **

**CarolROI- Thanks! I know—I'm SORRY! I feel so bad about not updating. Yeah, thanks, finals were…fine… I mean, they were finals… not much good to say about them. I hope I can write more for you guys! And to leave you with a cryptic note… if you think Raoul is getting in the way of E/C now… you just wait! Lol, anyway, thanks for** **reviewing, my faithful reader!**

**Tink20- He is indeed playing with her emotions, but he doesn't realize… he's quite innocent like that. But he does know his power over her. He didn't see her scars, to answer your question. I tried to imply that he was kissing her upper neck, above where a typical turtleneck would end, so everything would be covered. Thanks a lot! All of the support means so much to me! I'll try to update as fast as I can!**

**Mouse- Thanks!**

**Miffster- Thanks for the review! Lol… I liked the ending too. Yeah, I needed a way to wrap up the article and I figured that someone in the office would say something… maybe not that harshly, but whatever. And no, to answer your question, I would not say that to my boss! Lol. Thanks, keep reading!**

**Cool… so here's chapter nine! I'm going to introduce one of the more shady characters in this italics part so… read on, dear readers!**

_The teenager tapped the man on the shoulder._

_"Yes, Erik, what is it?" The man turned to him with a smile._

_"I have written a new piece, sir, and was curious as to your response."_

_"You would like me to look at it?" The man inquired, looking down at him tenderly._

_"If you wouldn't mind, sir. It is a piece I have been working on for a while."_

_"Of course, of course. I always love to hear your music, Erik. I-" The doorbell rang and Christine's fifteen year-old voice flitted through the shadows from the main hall. _

_"I'll get it, Daddy!" She giggled, and the two men heard the noise of the door being open and shut. An unfamiliar male voice cut through the silence._

_"Oh, yes." A slight smile came across the man's features. "I almost forgot. I'm sorry Erik; today I will not be able to assist you. Christine has a guest coming to dinner."_

_The teenager's demeanor instantly changed. He stiffened, straightening his spine and drawing back into the shadows. _

_"A guest?" He asked quietly._

_The man sighed. He knew that Erik was averse to new people, as well as being terrified of them._

_"Richard."_

_"Richard?" Erik echoed softly._

_"Yes." The man couldn't help a chuckle. "Christine is quite fond of him- God knows I've heard enough stories about him… He is her boyfriend."_

_Erik remained silent, and the man continued-_

_"You have no need to fear Erik, he is only coming for dinner and will not linger." Christine called for him from the dining room. "I must go. I'm sorry I have to leave you to yourself tonight. If you still wish to go over that piece tomorrow, I shall be more than happy."_

_The teenager only nodded, watching the man slip away from him into the main hallway. His voice repeated in his ears. _Boyfriend?_ The word did not appeal to him. He melded into the shadows with year-old ease and followed the girl's soft voice. _

I am being haunted. Oh, not in the general sense of the word. That is to say- he is not a ghost that haunts the astral plane. Nonetheless he is everywhere I look, everything I touch. I cannot stop it, and it taunts my every waking moment.

It started that same night I left the Opera house, shaking with emotion. Meg was thankfully not home, and I collapsed on my bed, shivering with memories of the music and his touch. I fell asleep- only to see him once again. When I awoke, I was trembling. I had seen his eyes, wide above mine, his hands traveling down and across my body, his lips meeting mine…

He is not a ghost that haunts the astral plane. He is the phantom of my dreams.

During the following music lessons he was distant and quiet, speaking only when necessary, and not of anything but music. He was out of reach. But in my dreams, he was passionate and commanding, alluring and incredibly seductive. I felt like I was seeing my life through a thin film. Time spent away from him was muted and foggy. Everything seemed slightly off- kilter, distorted. My dreams were invading my waking mind, reminding me of his wandering, ardent touch when I was with him. I could hardly understand when I was dreaming and when it was real- did he truly touch me or not? When I sang for him I didn't know if I really felt his lips or not- everything was a whirl.

Raoul was like my rock. He was something tangible and reliant that I could lean on. The time I spent with Raoul was the only time when I felt that the world wasn't spinning. He centered me. He was refreshingly normal, and I clung to that normalcy desperately. With him I longed to be rid of the strong emotions and conflicting thoughts that came with the angel- with him I craved simple feelings and sensations.

I was lounging around the kitchen table, contemplating my situation, when the phone rang. Checking the caller ID on the offending instrument, I realized that it was Raoul.

"Hello."

"Hey Christine. How are you?"

"I'm fine Raoul. You?"

"Great." I could imagine his grin across the telephone line.

"What's up?" I asked.

"Not much just wanted to hear your voice." I could feel myself smiling. He knew the right things to say to me.

"What are you doing right now?"

"I just got off the phone with my boss. It was kind of stressful. I just wanted to talk to you."

"Stressful?" My eyebrows shot up. "What happened?"

"Eh." I could picture him waving a hand dismissively. "He's mentioning a lot of different things for my future. Nothing is really settled yet."

"Near future?"

"Its not clear." He said hesitantly. "I'd rather not talk about it… he keeps talking about these big trips when all I really want to do is settle down, you know?"

"Settle down in Carmel? But what would you do? Surf?"

Brief static came from his end of the line before he replied. "Well, that's not what really what I meant. I was talking about marriage."

"Marriage?" I felt myself cool. Marriage was not one of my fonder topics.

"Yeah, I-" My cell phone rang suddenly and I jumped.

"Raoul, could you hang on for a moment?"

"Yeah, sure."

I set the phone down and flipped open my cell phone.

"Meg? What's up?"

"Oh, Christine, great. Mr. Destler is here. I told him to wait, because I thought you were coming in. I didn't realize you hadn't planned on coming in today."

"I…" In truth, I had completely forgotten about my meeting with Mr. Khan and Mr. Destler today. Clutching the phone to my ear, I sprinted up the stairs and changed quickly.

"No, I'm coming. Are they still there?"

"Yes."

"Great. Meg, thank them for waiting, and tell them I'll be there shortly. You can send them into my office if you like."

"Alright."

"Thanks Meg, bye." I hung up, and tossing my phone into my bag, grabbed my car keys and launched into the kitchen.

"Raoul? I'm really sorry, but I've got to go."

"That's alright. I'll still see you at eight, right?"

"Right. Bye."

I hung up and charged out the door.

The office was bustling and pleasantly busy when I walked in. Several people nodded at me as I rushed to end of the long hallway.

Meg nodded at me as I passed her desk.

"He's in there."

Her words stopped me in the middle of turning the handle to my office.

"What do you mean, he?"

"I mean Mr. Destler was the only one that showed up. He's waiting for you in your office."

Meg turned back to her computer and I hesitated for a split second before opening the door. This was work, and at work I had always been able to control myself. Work kept me occupied so I shouldn't think of him.

He was standing in the far left corner of my office, looking up onto the certificate on the wall. Turning, he nodded to acknowledge my presence. I swallowed and walked over to my desk, pulling out the various folders and papers we would need for this meeting.

"Ms. Daae." I looked up and he was directly beside me. I tried to contain my gasp. He has always been good at moving silently like a cat. His closeness was beginning to affect me as it always did, awareness creeping into my body like a drug, fog filling my senses as I gazed into his eyes…

His expression was passive, as usual. "Mr. Khan says that he will be late. He suggested that we start without him."

"Oh." I looked away from him, down at my desk, at the floor, at my _chair_, anything but him. "Alright. Perhaps we should start then."

"Perhaps," was all he said before taking the seat across from me. He opened his briefcase and pulled out several slips of paper.

"Okay, so what do we have?" I asked, rearranging the scattered papers on my desk to make them more readable. I read over last week's notes. "Did Mr. Barbanov give you his report?"

"He did. I did not get a chance to look at them, actually. Mr. Khan found them exceedingly useless, and employed another man to do the job."

"Oh? Who was that?" I scratched off Pavel Barbanov from my list and poised the pen to add the new name.

"Someone named Joseph Bouquet. He did a sufficient job and Mr. Khan and I have approved the area."

"Good." I felt a smile creep across my face. "We should be able to start within the week, wouldn't you say Mr. Destler?"

"Yes. Probably. The only complication that remains is in the name of Mr. Silver. He-"

"Is no longer an issue." Nadir Khan burst in through my office door and smiled at the two of us. "I have spoken to him already and resolved all matters of concern." He took a seat. "Good afternoon."

I nodded at him. "Is everything alright, Mr. Khan?"

"Perfectly." He assured me, but I noticed that his smile slipped slightly. "I apologize for the delay. What have you been discussing?"

The rest of the meeting went over without flaw, until Nadir's cell phone rang.

"Oh." He checked the number and he paled slightly. I frowned, and he got up from his seat. "You'll have to excuse me- I need to sort this out…"

"Of course…" The words barely left my mouth by the time he was out the door. I blinked, surprised.

"Well… I don't think there was much left of this meeting anyway."

Mr. Destler simply turned his gaze to mine, silent. I looked away from him, bothered by being left alone with him. I began to gather all of my papers together, stuffing them back into their respective folders and drawers. Mr. Destler cleared his throat, and I looked up at him, eyebrows slightly raised.

"How long do you think it will take for us to complete this house?"

I shrugged. "I would say about eight months… assuming Mr. Silver's money doesn't wear out and there aren't any really fancy things we need to do."

He nodded, a slight smile coming to play on his lips. "A good estimate, coming from someone who helped build the Opera House."

My eyes narrowed. "What do you mean by that?"

He shrugged and completely evaded my question. "How well do you think you knew the plans for the Opera House?"

"Well enough. Why?"

He nodded. "I believe your estimate was correct. Six to eight months, I would say."

I sighed, looking towards the door. Sometimes it was so hard to communicate with him. He was just so mysterious.

"Christine."

I glanced at him, surprised by the soft tone he took. My eyes searched his face.

"I… wanted to…."

I felt my face flushing as he stared at me, his words trailing off. I swallowed, trying to keep my mind focused. I avoided his eyes at all costs.

"Wanted to… what?" My voice was barely a hoarse whisper.

"I…" His voice dropped to a seductive whisper I had heard many times repeating in my head as I lay in my bed at night. My breath caught and I could feel my eyelids droop slightly. "Christine, I-"

His cell phone rang and I jumped, leaning back into my chair and closing my eyes. I sighed. I had let myself slip too far into my dreams. When would I be able to control myself? His cell phone continued to ring and I opened my eyes to see him staring at it with an unreadable expression on his face.

"Aren't you going to pick it up?" I asked quietly.

He glanced at me, and I nearly gasped at the venom in his gaze. He seized the cell phone and glared at the display, leaving me in shock. I had never seen him so angry before.

The door opened to reveal a very distressed looking Iranian. He saw the cell phone ringing and paled considerably.

Mr. Destler turned on him with barely controlled rage in his voice.

"_What_ is _this_?"

Nadir drew away from the hiss and gave him an apologetic look.

"I'm sorry," he whispered softly.

"You let _her_ into this country?" He spat, holding up the cell phone.

"I'm sorry." Nadir repeated. "You- you knew what would happen. It is your price to pay- there was nothing I could do."

The ringing stopped for a moment before picking up again. Whoever 'her' was, she was very persistent.

"You must answer it." Nadir said quietly. Mr. Destler glared at him before snapping open his cell phone with a violent gesture.

"Yes?" He asked harshly.

I heard a muffled laugh through the side of his phone.

He sighed, dropping into his seat and cradling his head in his free hand.

"My deepest apologies. It is wonderful to hear you again."

In surprised, I glanced up at him. The whole scene had been a mystery to me, and it kept getting stranger. His expression was grim, his lips set in a thin line.

"Yes, I know."

There was muffled talking on the other side.

"Yes." A pause. "On the contrary. I might admit that our agreement has crossed my mind several times in the past years." Whatever he was talking about- and to who- blew my mind, and I simply listened. There was another pause before his features darkened slightly. "No, I-" He sighed once again, closing his eyes tiredly. "Yes, of course."

There was a moment in which he did not speak at all, and then he stood up, nodded at me, and simply walked out of the room. I gaped after him.

I heard a sigh, and looked incredulously towards Nadir, searching for an explanation.

"What was that about?"

Nadir watched the closed door as if hoping Mr. Destler would return at any moment.

"Its hard to explain."

"Try me."

He sighed, taking a seat across from me.

"There is a lot more to him then you might expect." He offered. "When we were in Iran-"

"He was in Iran?" I asked, surprised.

"Yes." Nadir answered wearily. "That is where we met. He had some… dealings with… the wrong kind of people."

I blinked. "Surely not criminals?"

"No. No, other kinds of people. Politicians. Dishonest, disgusting, and very, very rich."

"And this… woman that causes him so much distress?" I questioned, interested.

Nadir nodded tiredly. "A woman of great power. Carla." He paused. "My sister."

My mouth dropped open. "Your _sister_?"

"By marriage. She-"

My inquires were cut short when Mr. Destler burst back into the room. His eyes were narrowed in anger, but his face was eerily calm.

"Come Nadir." I flinched, his voice like ice. "We have much to discuss."

Nadir nodded. "Ms. Daae, I believe we'll be seeing you on Friday."

"Right."

Nadir gave me a shaky smile before exiting the room. Mr. Destler watched me for a moment before taking small, sure steps towards me.

He took my hand in his and I tried to contain a gasp.

"I shall see you tonight, Christine." He brushed his lips against my hand and I nearly fainted, my thoughts going completely blank. He nodded and walked out the door as I stared after him stupidly. My mouth opened of its own volition and my lips shaped the words effortlessly.

"Yes, my angel."

* * *

Raoul was prompt, as he always was. I had been putting the finishing touches on my hair and makeup when Meg called his arrival from the living room. I grabbed a handbag from the hook on the side of my bed and swept down the stairs.

Raoul was waiting at the bottom, a smile wide on his face and his arms full of carnations.

I smiled, meeting him at the bottom with a kiss on his cheek.

I took the flowers from his arms, bringing them to my nose for a minute to take in the heavy fragrance.

"Thank you, Raoul."

"Only for you, Christine." He said, grinning at me.

"Smooth talker." I joked, setting the bouquet down on the counter.

"Ready?" He asked, offering his arm.

"Yes." I smiled a goodbye to Meg, who waved us off before closing the door. Raoul led me down the stairs towards the empty concrete sidewalk.

"I thought we could walk to the restaurant," He said, "It's only a few blocks away."

"Okay." I followed him in silence for a few minutes down the street. The night had already settled in thickly, the few stars pale in comparison to the bright, full moon. The ocean crashed beside us and I closed my eyes for a moment, taking in the sea smell I had come to love, the comfortable salt that hung in the air. I suddenly felt like dancing, throwing my arms up in the air and twirling until I was dizzy, until I could forget all of my troubles. For once I yearned to dance and be seen as beautiful, to be seductive and sensual in the darkness, the only place I could be seen as such. I sighed, opening my eyes to the true reality, my dream coming apart. Darkness only lasted so long, the magnificent cover of night only protected me for so many hours, until day invaded and I had to hide beneath my shell again. The darkness was only a place for pretend, until I was revealed for my true self. My dreams were just that- dreams and never anything more. And yet I clung to them, to the trusting softness of night's caress…

My music lesson that day had been even more distant than usual. He didn't look at me, and didn't say a word. He simply nodded when I did well, and stopped playing to indicate I had done something wrong. Before I left I said goodnight to him, and he didn't respond, only played on the piano. I couldn't understand the change that had come over the angel. Why was he suddenly giving me the cold shoulder? I knew whatever had transpired today had upset him, but why was he taking it out on me? I had felt somewhat forlorn ever since the lesson, and was hoping Raoul could cheer me up.

We arrived at the restaurant, a quaint little white cottage named _Adelphia_. Raoul led me inside, into a seat with red and silver lining surrounding a black table. The waiters were dressed in black and silver, and handed out red menus. When our drinks came, Raoul took a sip and sat back in his chair, smiling at me.

"You remember what I was saying to you on the phone this morning?"

"Hmm?" I asked, "about getting married?"

"Yeah." He blew out a breath and relaxed into the fluffy seat. "Marriage. A crazy idea, right?"

"I… don't know." I shifted somewhat uncomfortably, and took a sip of water to keep me from saying anything else. In all honesty, I hated talking about marriage.

"Have you ever wanted to be married, Christine?" He asked.

"No." I said firmly.

"Really? What do you think of getting married now?"

"I… I think… marriage is a great idea." I paused. "But not for me."

He frowned. "Are you sure?"

"Quite."

"Marriage is beautiful." He encouraged.

"I know." I sighed. "I've seen how glorious it can be."

"And?"

I squirmed under the scrutiny of his gaze. "I would want to be married," I finally admitted, feeling too barred. "But…" I took another sip of water.

"I was married once, you know."

I nearly spit out my drink as I looked up at him, my eyes wide. Whatever I had been expecting, it was not _this_.

"What?"

He smiled loftily. "Yeah. Her name was Flavia. Pretty little thing… she was a model from Australia."

"But how… I mean…" I swallowed, totally floored. "_When_?"

"About two years ago… I was twenty-one. I met her on one of my surfing tours in Europe. She was modeling in Madrid and decided to take a trip to the beaches, and I was staying in Barcelona. We met at a club one night and just- clicked. She was going to Paris afterwards and I was going through the last phase of my competition, so I agreed to meet her there. After we went to London and… after a couple of months we decided to get married. It was a huge thing… all over the news… she was really famous in Europe."

I simply stared at him, my mouth gone completely dry. I could hardly take in what he was saying. My mind was stuck- _he was married?_

"Anyway…" he shrugged. "We were only married for two months. We decided that it couldn't work… she had to go to Japan to model and I was going to Australia. We knew there couldn't be any kids or anything… you know how it is with celebrities. We decided to divorce."

Our food came just as he finished talking, and it stopped me from saying anything. In truth I couldn't think of anything to say. I couldn't believe he had been married! For a time I had forgotten who he was and how famous he was. I _did_ know how it was with celebrities- it was always in the tabloids. They hooked up and broke up almost every week. There were children out of wedlock and broken one-month marriages… was this what was in store for me, a celebrity's girlfriend?

And I didn't like the way he spoke of it. Marriage had always been a taboo idea for me- something that I considered denied to me because of my deformity. He talked about it like it was going out to get a sandwich from Subway- something casual and informal. Marriage was such a sacred idea to me. Something holy and intimate, to be shared between two people in love. The world, and people who shaped it, like Raoul, had made it into something to be done on whim, something secular. When I was little, I had imagined marrying my soul mate. Someone who was meant for me, someone who completed my heart. I had believed in spending the rest of my life with someone who was my other half. I had long since abandoned those dreams, but still held marriage as a sacred union. If I was ever to be married, I wanted to be completely and irrevocably in love… obsessively infatuated and wholly seduced…. I knew it would never happen, and I found myself despising Raoul for his light treatment of marriage.

"Perhaps," I said, digging my fork into the chicken rather forcefully, "you shouldn't have married someone you'd only known for a month. Then you might have tried a little harder."

He frowned. "I told you. It wouldn't have worked out. We were just all over the place."

"Where there's a will, there's a way." I shot back.

"What are you yelling at me for? Of course I wanted to stay with my wife."

"Oh, yes." I laughed haughtily. "Excuse me, I'd forgotten. Of course you'd want to stay with that beautiful model you'd known for so long."

"I knew Flavia well enough." He said defensively. "Why are you being so cynical?"

"Cynical? Just listen to yourself, Raoul!" I hissed furiously, "Ditching a marriage because that's 'how it is with celebrities.' God! If you _celebrities_ tried marrying for love instead of money then you might have a few lasting marriages out there!"

"Don't accuse me of that! Flavia and I were in love."

"You couldn't have been. You hardly had time to love her."

"We knew each other for three months. We were in love, and I don't need to justify it to you." He said firmly.

"Then why are you here, dating me, and not out there, with your beloved wife?" I asked harshly.

"Don't mock me like that! I told you that it wouldn't have worked out. We were in love for a while, but-"

"In love for a while! Raoul, that's not how it works! When you're in love- and I mean real, true love- it doesn't just fade away. It's not just lust. It's so, so much more than that."

He considered me for a moment. "You sound like you're talking from experience." He said slowly.

I looked away from his accusing eyes to my plate. "I'm not." I said quietly, drawing away from him, and into myself. I was speaking of the kind of love I longed for, but never had. The kind of elusive and all- consuming love that only the lucky can find. The kind of love I witnessed between my parents before my mother's untimely death. I had been so young then- but it was a kind of love that you felt when they were with each other, the sparkle in their eyes and the warmth in their laughter. I spoke of what I once sought after with Richard… and I knew the terrible pain associated with the loss of such a dream…

"I'm not." I repeated, looking up at him. "But isn't that the way love should be? Doesn't that sound right to you?"

He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "The world isn't quite like that any more, Christine. People have changed a lot since the Romeo and Juliet- type love. It's not longer the world where you can sacrifice everything for the one you love- you've got to make choices, and sometimes those choices make you put everything into perspective. Flavia and I decided to break it off because we both had jobs that we wanted to hold on to. It doesn't mean we loved each other any less. It's just that the intense love you're talking about- it can't be found in this world. People are involved in too many other things to allow their lives to be taken over by love. People care too much about themselves to give completely to another person."

I shook my head, silently weeping. I couldn't believe him. I _refused_ to believe him. He had to be wrong. Somewhere in this world there was someone who could love me completely, someone who would give me everything… I had to believe that. I _needed_ to believe that. Without it, what did I have? A cold, empty shell of a life… I kept my head down so he wouldn't see my tears.

"I don't mean to offend, Christine, but there are other priorities in life. I'm not saying that people can't love and won't enjoy love once it's found. But… the kind of romantically tragic stories that we all love to watch in movies and read in books… like the one where the beauty loves the monster… or the hunchback falls in love with the beauty…. or the pauper marries the princess…. they're beautiful, touching stories, but love isn't always a fight like that. In today's world, people love normally- and deeply- but not ideally. It's nice to dream about, but it never happens."

_Oh my God…_ was there any more effective way to shatter my heart into tiny pieces, to dismantle my castle over dreams to show me that it was really only an abandoned warehouse?

How could he believe that? How could he believe in such dispassionate, bland affection? How could he take the very core of my soul- the 'tragically romantic' stories he referred to with such skepticism- and deny them? How could he successfully smash each and every one of my hopes of love with such harsh, distasteful words?

He had succeed in confirming what I had always hoped to avoid- the fact that I was indeed a monster, and would always remain as such. What had he said? That people love normally? Any love for me would not be normal. It would be a fight. A fight against my inner demons and my outer deformity. He had confirmed my worst nightmare- I would truly never find love.

I wiped my eyes frantically with my hands, standing quickly and turning away from him.

"Christine?" He asked, surprised.

I shook my head, grabbing my purse and fleeing. I heard him calling after me. When I looked behind me I saw him chasing me through my tears. A sob caught in my throat as I pushed the doors open to the fresh, cool night air.

"Christine!"

"Please- _please_ don't follow me!" I ran from him and the cruel truth of what he had said. My feet slapped against the unforgiving pavement as I rushed towards the house. Then I realized that Meg was inside, and I wanted to avoid her. No matter how nice she had been to me, she was still an outsider. She didn't know- she couldn't know what I felt and she couldn't help me further than a friendly hug. And human contact was the last thing I wanted.

No. What I needed- what I _craved_ was an angel's touch. Digging through my purse, I drew out my car keys and unlocked the car deftly, jumping into the seat and revving the engine. Stepping on the gas, I wheeled towards the Opera house.

It was quiet when I arrived, ironically contradictory to the raging emotions in my mind. I locked the car and threw the keys in my bag, running towards the familiar building. It hadn't even occurred to me that he might not be there, that he might have a life outside of music. It just made sense that my Angel would be there when I needed him.

I was right. The music I heard when I approached the little room was soft and sweet. I sank down against the door, listening blissfully to the lilting music. It was like a warm and loving blanket had come to settle over my body, a thousand delicate rose petals fell over me, caressing my cheeks with their silky fabric. I closed my eyes, allowing myself to fall deeper into heaven. Music was all around me calling the deepest, hidden parts of my soul. The music melded with that in my heart, giving me that warm, incredibly elusive feeling of belonging. I listened to the music that he played, slipping deeper into the fog of paradise… the peace of unconsciousness... the rapture… the tranquility of nothingness…

I awoke abruptly, my breathing labored, pulling my arms in across my chest in a protective gesture. I realized that the music had stopped and my breath caught. Had he seen me, sitting out here, sleeping? I cringed, until I heard the faint music pick up again.

It was then that I let myself sigh, leaning my head back against the door. I had never wanted him quite so much, had never dreamed so vividly of him… I let out a slow breath, trying to calm down.

These dreams had to stop. It was in_de_cent to dream about him when he was in no way my lover or my husband. I had to confront these feelings I was having for him. I had to put and end to them.

I stretched, checking my watch. It was 9:20. I had been asleep for about forty minutes. _I really should be getting back…_

The music was tugging at my soul, beckoning me inside. It was so tempting… _I _really _should be getting back…_

I stood up, titling my neck to get rid of the cricks of sleeping in such a strange position. Turning to face the door, I gently pushed it open, containing my gasp as I saw his thin frame sitting at the piano bench, his hands running long the keys. He was beautiful… an angel…_my angel…_

The word must have left my lips because he stopped abruptly, turning around quickly to face me. He seemed surprised, an emotion that I had hardly ever seen from him.

"Christine?" I sighed, closing my eyes for the briefest second, allowing his voice to wash over my frayed nerve endings.

"Are you alright?"

I opened my eyes calmly to look at him; my body tired from two many extreme emotions. I swept towards him, gracefully taking a seat on the piano bench.

"I'm fine." I said quietly. "Will you play me something?"

He nodded. Still watching me sharply, his fingers played a sweet, slow melody that I knew from my favorite Broadway show. I smiled. Little things like this proved to me that he was really an angel… I closed my eyes, listening in bliss to his flawless, passionate playing. I allowed my head to fall limply to the side, and started when I realized that it was lying on his shoulder.

The music stopped and I opened my eyes to find him gazing at me with an unreadable expression. I quickly lifted my head, blushing.

"I'm sorry… I didn't mean to interrupt you. Its just that the music is so nice…"

He nodded. "I played for you, Christine."

I smiled, looking into his eyes. "Thank you."

"You've no need to thank me… I am your Angel of Music. Sing for me, Christine."

He played the song again and I closed my eyes, bursting into song.

_There's something sweet  
And almost kind  
But he was mean and he was coarse and unrefined  
But now he's dear, and so unsure  
I wonder why I didn't see it there before…_

The music stopped, and I stopped with it, glancing over at his perfect jawline.

"You love the story don't you? _Beauty and the Beast_?"

"It was always my favorite." I admitted, "I… it always gave me hope."

He regarded me for a long moment with his powerful golden eyes. There was something in his gaze… something I could not name, but I knew instinctively.

"It is the stories like that that keep the world alive with wonder and beauty. Even in the darkest of times… there are stories like that to… refuel our spirits. It is stories like that that allow people to wish… give them courage to dream…" His voice broke off with pained emotion.

"I-"

"Christine," he cut me off, his voice laced with desperation. "Christine, please, promise me that you…" He paused for a minute, his eyes cloudy. "Promise me that you will always believe in that story… for…" He turned from me then, his voice dropping off into a hopeless whisper. "For both of us."

My eyes felt misty, as I attempted a shaky smile. "Angel, I promise." He looked at me, and I tried to take his hand in mine in an affectionate gesture. But the moment I reached for him he pulled away from me, shrinking away from my touch like a frightened animal.

"Angel…?" I questioned uncertainly. He had never been reluctant to touch me. He had never seemed… scared of me.

"Christine, I would ask that you not touch me." There was carefully guarded plea in that command, and I nodded, although still confused.

We stared at each other for a while, and he finally returned to the piano and began playing the opening lines to the beginning of the show.

"It is quite late." He stated above the music. "Perhaps you should be getting home. I will be here tomorrow, for your music lesson."

"All right." I said softly. "Good night my angel."

I stood quietly, not wanting to interrupt his playing and left the room. The serenity he had instilled in me stayed with me as I started up my car. The incident with Raoul seemed so far away… everything seemed so _unimportant_. What more did I need if I had an angel watching over me?

I pulled into the driveway and was relieved to see that all the house lights were off. I still didn't want to talk to Meg. All I wanted to do was sleep, and keep the peace inside of me for a few more blissful hours…

I unlocked the front door and crept quietly up towards my room. The door was slightly ajar and I opened it to find Shadow slumbering on my floor. I smiled, picking up his little body and bringing him into bed with me. Once I had changed, I turned off my light and laid next to the sleeping animal.

The angel's words repeated in my head. His views were so different from Raoul's. He was kind, compassionate, and sweet to me… he understood how much I clung to those stories Raoul had pegged unreal. He understood… in a way no one had understood before. He was my Angel of Music.

I fell asleep, and for the first time in that week, I did not dream.

**Alrighty! Done! Well. This chapter was hard to write… I don't know why. I don't know if I'm satisfied with the ending… but I really wanted to get this up for you guys… its been 13 days since I last posted! That's pathetic!**

**Anyway. A note about the dream: Once again… she's just lusting after him. Sure at the end here she's having some warm feelings but… yeah. Just dreams. This whole chapter dealt with dreams… dreams when sleeping… dreams when awake… dreams for the future… dreams of what might have been. All that kind of stuff. And two important characters have been introduced, Carla and Richard. Richard has been mentioned a few times before… Carla has not, and she will become very important later on. **

**Anyway, review! I'm not so sure about this chapter, so please tell me what you think! **

**Thanks! Love ya!**

**IceCliff**


	10. Chapter 10

**Hey all. Glad to be writing this chapter… things are going to start picking up. From the next chapter on, things will start being explained… things will make sense… and new questions will be raised… and some important things will be revealed. I'm so excited!**

**Thanks to EVERYONE who has reviewed! It's so satisfying to have reviewers… it makes the writing that much more fun!**

**CarolROI- I thought it was rather important that the audience realize the kind of people Raoul and Erik are, and I thought the relationship discussion would give a nice contrast. She woke up in the dream before he saw the scars because I didn't want her character to deal with that yet. And I wanted to save his reaction for a real revealing. Ha! Carla! Yay. Well, that would be telling! Heh. Well, if you've read Susan Kay's book, I have to say that Carla's character is not based on Carlotta, but on the Khanum. So… all will be revealed later… perhaps they were romantically involved! And… in terms of Christine…you may be right…THANKS FOR REVIEWING! Sorry I haven't updated in so long! I love your reviews!**

**Tink20- Yes, that fantasy feeling was exactly was I was going for with that chapter. Thanks! I love getting your reviews… makes me feel good about writing! Keep reading please! You are my faithful reader!**

**I'm glad you guys are curious about Carla… she's my favorite new character… she is so evil! But she won't really pop up until chapters 11 and 12.**

**Anyway… Pay attention a certain symbol that keeps repeating itself in this chapter. It was also mentioned in chapter eight. It's going to be quite important in the coming chapters.**

_Erik always watched. It wasn't that he wanted to watch. Most of the time he didn't. Most of the time they did things that he would be ashamed even _attempting_ to explain to Sir. But he felt he had to watch. He felt he had to protect her. And, in the twisted workings of his mind, it was punishment._

_His eyes followed her as she brushed her hair out in front of her vanity mirror. He knew that she expected _the boy_ to arrive soon, and that they were going to go swimming. She pulled a swimsuit shrug over the top of her bathing suit, knotting it firmly in the front. She sighed, staring at her covered reflection, before jumping up to answer the ringing doorbell. _

_He took the back staircase and met her at the bottom, where she was opening the door and greeting _the boy.

_"Richard!" She giggled, pressing a kiss to his lips. He wrapped his arms around her slight figure, returning her kiss._

_"How are you Christine?" Richard asked softly, making him cringe. What right had the boy to speak to Christine in such sickeningly sweet tones?_

_The girl sighed, pressing her full head of curls into Richard's chest._

_"I'm getting better Richard. I… I've stopped dreaming of the fire."_

_"That's good, sweetheart." The boy cooed, kissing her on the top of her head. "You should put that all behind you. Thank God you weren't hurt in that wretched fire."_

_Christine made no reply, only hugged the boy tighter to her. He frowned. Was the boy so stupid? _Or had Christine not told him_? He felt a skinning feeling in his stomach as he watched the pair walk towards the swimming pool._

Rays of sunlight penetrated my room through the blinds that I had only half-closed the night before. I yawned, curling my arms above my head in a relaxing stretch. Shadow was still sleeping beside me, curled up to my side, snuggling. I smiled, scratching him behind the ears.

"Come on, sweetie." I stroked my hand through his silky, thick fur, admiring the smooth feeling on my fingertips. "Shadow…"

The dog's head popped up and I grinned at him, kissing him lightly on the top of the head. He barked happily, jumping off the side of my bed and running around the carpeted floor of my room. I laughed, pulling on a robe from the hook next to my bed, and stood up to chase him.

He didn't make it easy on my tired muscles. It was a full three minutes before I finally caught the black fur ball, laughing so hard my sides hurt. I hugged him to me, laughing in his fur.

"Oh, Shadow." He barked in response to his name. I pet his head. "What would I do without you Shadow?" He merely barked again and I sighed. "That's what I get for talking to a dog…"

He barked again, pushing his small head against the door of my closet.

"What, Shadow, you want to go in there?" He pawed at the door. "No. That's not a door for me to open."

It was useless, trying to argue with a determined dog. I stared at the door to my closet for a long while, tuning out the sounds of Shadow's impatient barking. I hadn't been inside that closet since I locked it up six years ago. What would I find if I opened it once again? How much evil would I let out… and how much hope? There were so many memories in that closet, so many things that I was afraid to think about… so many demons of the past that I had wanted to put behind me. Was it worth the pain to finally confront those evil spirits? I nodded once to myself before standing up to retrieve the small key from the jewelry box on my dresser. Perhaps it was time.

The door handle squeaked when I turned it, and I winced. There was still time to go back and forget for a while longer… _No, it has been far too long. I have to do this… There is no going back now. _I pushed the door open to reveal the dusty, dark closet. I pulled the string that hung from the ceiling and the closet was illuminated. I sighed, falling to my knees at the sudden tears that came to my eyes. The first thing I saw was my father's violin case, sitting at the very front, its black leather faded from years of mistreatment. I pulled it gently out of the closet, cradling it in my arms. Its weight was slight, as it had always been. I wiped at stay tears that fell down my cheeks, closing the closet as I sat down before it, my hands gently working the latches at the side of the case.

It opened easily, revealing the damaged violin that lay inside. My tears fell harder this time, plopping gently onto Shadow's head. He was sniffing the injured violin with curiosity. I pulled it out of the case, stroking my fingers down the crack that ran down the middle of the instrument, ruining the beautiful wood and breaking all of the strings.

I remembered that day as clearly as I remembered my name. I could recall every wretched detail, every miserable action of that terrible day…

Richard and I had planned to go swimming. It was about two weeks after I had gotten out of the hospital, and I was just coming to terms with my burns. I had bought a turtleneck swim jacket- that was exceedingly hard to find- to go over my old bathing suits so they would sufficiently cover up anything ugly. Thus, fully covered, I had met Richard at the door. Maybe that was my first mistake, not telling him about the burns. Perhaps if he had known he could have prepared or… something else… _anything else…_

_I smile entreatingly at him, leading him towards the pool in my backyard. The weather is warm for June, and I am glad to be outside with him. He is the only person I feel I can trust besides my father, now that I have my burns. He is the only who knows me well enough to see beyond the burns…_

_I stop next to a green lounge chair, dropping the two towels I collected for us onto the chair and smiling at him._

_He grins. "I guess you want me to take off my shirt."_

_I shrug playfully. "You don't have to if you don't want to."_

"_I might want to." He says, hugging me around my middle. I giggle. "Only if you let me push you in."_

_Before I realize what is happening, he pushes me into the water. I scream before I hit the surface; going under for only a split second before I resurface, ready to kill._

"_Richard!" I yell, but there is a smile on my face. "I'm going to get you for that."_

"_I hope you will, Christine." He says mischievously, shedding his shirt and slipping into the water. He swims out towards me, enfolding me into his arms._

"_Don't try any of that!" I say, swimming away from him. "I'm still mad at you."_

"_Are you?" He asks. He raises his eyebrows before swimming towards me in slow, self-assured strokes. "Are you sure, Christine?" His mouth finds my neck and he kisses me gently. I laugh happily, feeling his hands coming to rest on my waist._

"_There." He says, pulling away from me. "I knew you weren't angry."_

_I hit him on the arm before pulling him back to kiss his mouth. His hand travels towards my neck, caressing the part that he can feel. He pulls away, frowning._

"_Why are you wearing this, Christine? You don't need to cover up… you are so beautiful…" His hands find the top of the fabric and begin to pull down, and I dip beneath him, swimming towards the other side of the pool. I feel stupid now, that I haven't told him what is under the jacket. After all, they are just burns. Richard will understand. I take a deep breath before turning around to see him swimming towards me. _

"_What is it, Christine?" He asks, his eyes narrowed in confusion. _

_I sigh, and force myself to look into his eyes… "Richard… something did happen to me in the fire."_

_He frowns. "What do you mean, Christine? You told me-"_

"_It's nothing life threatening." I cut him off, swallowing hard. "It's… a wound of a different nature."_

"_How do you mean? Christine, are you alright?"_

"_I'm fine, Richard. Once I know I have your support, everything will be perfect." I give a little hysterical laugh, trying to keep myself under control. "Its nothing really…" I try to make myself believe it too… it _is_ nothing… just a few burns is all…_

"_Christine, talk to me." He takes hold on of my shoulders. "What has happened?"_

_I shake my head; trying to suppress tears that make my throat so thick I cannot speak._

"_Oh, Christine…" He kisses both of my cheeks before cradling my head to his chest, rocking me gently back and forth in the water. "Its fine. Everything is fine…" He lifts my head to kiss me and I press into him, needing to feel comforted. He kisses me gently at first, his hands wandering through my hair and up my back. His tongue enters my mouth and I don't even hear the rustle of fabric. I don't realize what he has done until I feel the wind cool against my chest, and I pull away from him sharply, attempting to cover myself. But it is too late. There burns are too large for me to hide, and he has already seen._

"_My God…" He whispers, backing away from me, his face twisted with disgust. "Christine, what the _hell_ happened to you?"_

_Tears spring to my eyes as I grope around for something to cover up with. "In the fire…" I whisper. "I was in the fire… I was burned."_

"_Burned!" He yells, quickly jumping out of the pool. "Christine burns don't look like that! That- that's disgusting! It's hideous! How can you even…!"_

"_Richard!" I cry after him, climbing out of the pool and grabbing a towel to cover myself. "It's just skin! It doesn't matter… Richard, it's still me!"_

"_No! Not the beautiful little Christine I used to know! You're… you're repulsive! That's nauseating Christine, I can't even look at you!"_

"_But their just burns! What does it matter what I look like?"_

_He turns to me, revulsion still etched on his face, and opens his mouth to speak._

_Instead, I hear my father's voice coming from behind Richard._

"_What is going on here?" He asks, his voice deep and authoritative._

"_Your daughter!" Richard exclaims, "Your daughter is a monster!" _

_I gasp back my tears, hardly believing my ears. How could he be so cruel? _How could he be so cruel?_ How could anyone be so cruel to another person because of they way they look?_

_My father watches Richard angrily, clutching his violin tightly. "My daughter is not a monster."_

"_She is! It's sickening!" He whirls to face me. "How could you lie to me, Christine, make me believe you were still beautiful?"_

"_It doesn't matter…" I whisper brokenly, disbelievingly, "It shouldn't matter…"_

_My father takes hold of Richard arms, swinging him around._

"_Listen to me closely. My daughter is not a monster. If you cannot see that, then I suggest you get off of my property right now."_

_Richard yells a curse at him, launching himself at my father's slim figure and crushing the violin beneath the two of them. A scream escapes my lips and I rush forward to help, but my father has already pushed him off, and Richard takes off running, screaming obscenities back over his shoulder. I cry out and kneel next to my father who is brushing himself off._

"_It's alright Christine." He says, whipping a tear from my cheek. "Everything is going to be alright."_

_I look at him pleadingly. "He thought I was disgusting. He said I was a monster. Papa! Why was he so cruel to me?"_

"_It doesn't matter Christine…"_

"_It does! He thought I was ugly… they are just burns! Why can't anyone understand? He called me hideous! I thought- I thought he loved me!" I cry into the soft fabric of my father's shirt and he pats me on the back, stroking my hair._

"_No one will understand Christine." He whispers. "I don't even think I will understand fully. The only one who will ever understand is Erik…"_

_I pull away to look at him in the eye. "Will he, Papa?"_

_He nodded. "Erik will understand, sweetheart. He will understand… and everything will be alright."_

_I shake my head, tears still slipping down my cheeks as my gaze falls to his violin. "It won't Papa!" I cry, "It won't ever be alright!" I lift the broken violin so he can see it, the wrecked instrument so well representing the remainder of my heart. _

Quiet tears streamed down my cheeks as I remembered that day. I put the violin gently back into its case, closing the top and putting it back into the closet. Locking the door, I returned the key to its spot on my dresser.

I wandered over towards by bed, and Shadow jumped into my lap as I wiped haphazardly at my tears. Richard had been the beginning. He had been the first to show me that I would never gain acceptance from people. He had been the first to tell me what I really was, a monster, a _thing_ to mocked, perhaps even pitied. But not loved. No, he had certainly showed me that.

In the days and weeks after that day, Richard had spread the story throughout the school, so I was ridiculed wherever I went. I lost every single friend I had and even some of the teachers were repulsed by me. The only thing that kept my sane was my father and the music.

Since that day, I had been careful never to trust anyone with my true self. I knew that no matter how kind hearted they might seem, there was always a capacity for cruelty, and that was always the response I would evoke. I even started to hide it from my father. What was the point of subjecting him to such hideousness? He, the only one who stood by me?

Sometimes at night I would stand in front of my mirror, looking at the burns. It was a cruel sort of punishment for myself. I don't know why I did it… perhaps to remind myself that I was different, and that I would always remain so. To remind myself never to get too comfortable with people… because I was set apart and would always be apart…

There was one person I was beginning to feel might accept me… because of his understanding nature and his beauty… one angel who spoke to me through the notes of music that might be able to save me from hell. For some reason, I felt I could trust him. It was the scariest thing I'd ever felt. Why did I think he could be different from the rest of them?

Shadow barked loudly and Meg knocked on my door simultaneously. I jumped up, unlocking my door to see Meg holding the phone in her hands.

"Its Raoul." She said, and I frowned. In my reverie, I had not heard the phone ring.

"Thanks." I took the phone from her hands and closed the door again. I did not want to talk to Raoul. The events of last night had remained locked in the back of my mind and I didn't want to think about them. I just wanted it all to go away… Closing my eyes, I counted to ten before putting the phone to my ear.

"Hello, Raoul."

"Christine?" He sounded frenzied. "Christine! Are you all right? What's happened? Christine, I'm so sorry! Did I so something, say something?"

"Raoul."

"Was it about Flavia? You know I haven't spoken to her in months, Christine she means nothing to me! I-"

"Raoul."

He paused for a moment, as if surprised I was still there.

"Christine, I'm sorry."

I sighed, falling down against my pillows. How to explain it to him? He was so innocent; he hadn't even realized what he had done. He hadn't realized the kind of monster he was speaking to…

"I'd really rather not talk about it."

"But… Christine! If something is bothering you we should talk about it."

"Forget about it, Raoul." I said, "I shouldn't have taken it so seriously… I shouldn't have run off like that…"

"Taken what so seriously?"

"No, Raoul, really. Its better if we just forget about it…"

"About what? Christine, talk to me! What did I do?"

"Its just…" I picked at a loose thread on my covers. "All that stuff you said about marriage. Is that really how you feel?"

"Well… yeah."

"But… why?"

"That's what I've witnessed growing up."

"What do you mean?" I asked, somewhat distressed.

"I mean, my parents… I don't think they ever really loved each other. It was a profitable marriage. No one has ever shown me any different…"

"Raoul, I…" I trailed off. What could I say to him? I couldn't teach him how to love.

"If I offended you I'm sorry… Its what I grew up believing. And when you're a celebrity things are so distorted. Especially marriage."

Cursing him silently, I lowered the phone from my ear. I couldn't blame him for his cruel words the other night… he hadn't known any better! He had been pampered his whole life but had never known the simple joy of the love shared between my parents… It wasn't his fault he didn't understand.

I sighed.

"Raoul…"

"I never thought I'd be able to find a strong, lasting love. Even with Flavia I think we both knew that it wouldn't last…"

"Raoul, please. Let's not talk about it." So much discussion on love was bringing new tears to my eyes. I think I hated the word.

"But Christine, with you its different."

I swallowed. _Please, please don't say it…_

"With you, everything is brighter, everything is better. And it's so much simpler."

How could he understand simple if he'd never experienced it?

"Raoul, I think-"

"Really, Christine. You've shown so many new things… I never thought I could be so content… with you, it's just right."

I sat silently, holding the phone to my ear in a sort of paralyzed horror. _Don't say it… don't say it…_

"Christine, I did a lot of thinking last night after you left. And I think what I'm trying to say is that I-"

"Let's just forget it ever happened, okay?" I asked quickly. He was beginning to tread on dangerous ground.

"But, Christine, I'm trying to tell you, I-"

"Let's have a redo, okay?" I suggested faintly. I couldn't hear the words come out of his mouth. "Tonight? Say… eight?"

I could hear him hesitate. "Christine…"

I closed my eyes. I couldn't let him say it… how would I respond when I knew I didn't feel the same way? It would be one more lie on top of my ever-growing pile.

"I really just want to forget all of that, okay? I'm sorry for what happened. Let's just move on. I'd be happy to see you tonight."

"Of course." He finally said graciously. I could hear the upper-class breeding kicking in. "I'd be delighted."

"So… eight."

"Yes." He voice was flat, and I suppressed a sigh. I knew I had hurt him.

"Raoul…" _I'm sorry…_

"I'll pick you up at your house, alright?" I could hear I distinct attempt to sound cheery, and it made my heart hurt. He such a nice guy… why couldn't I learn to love him?

"Yeah. I'll see you soon."

"Right. Goobye, Christine."

I hung up the phone and stared at my ceiling. The answer to the question was simple. Raoul thought he liked me because he hadn't seen me. He reminded me too much of Richard. When I had first begun dating Richard, he too had been straightforward and eager. Until he had seen the burns.

* * *

Later that day I had to show up for a meeting with Nadir and Mr. Deslter at the construction site. Meg had wanted to tag along, but I sent her back to the office instead. I had been keeping her in the dark about my activities lately, and I wanted to put some space between us.

The meeting was our first on the actual building site. We were to discuss final preparations for the commencement of building. To house our meetings we had set up a little trailer under an oak tree near the edge of the site.

I trekked across the expansive land, marveling at the apparent wealth of our client. To the left there was a magnificent view of the crystal clear river the flowed into the ocean. The house would stand tall and beautiful, with balconies and columns and huge glass atriums… I approached the white trailer and knocked on the little door. Nadir appeared before me.

"Hello Christine." He attempted a thin, closemouthed smile, and I figured that all was still not well between him and Mr. Destler.

"Hello." I followed him inside and took a seat at the table where Mr. Destler was quietly drawing sketches.

"Is everyone doing okay?" I asked politely, attempting to ease the tension in the air.

"Quite." Nadir said. He cleared his throat and Mr. Destler gazed up at me. I met his eyes calmly, sending a short message of thanks for last night. He gave no indication that he had understood me and simply returned to his work.

I sighed, and turned to Nadir.

"Mr. Kahn, I recently spoke to the head of the department, Mr. Blake. He signed all of your papers and said that he returned them via fax a few days ago."

He rubbed his forehead. "Right. I'm sorry, I forgot about them… I'll have to ask Darius if he saw them come through…"

I nodded. "Once you check over those I think we'll be ready to start, correct?"

I didn't get an answer. There was an edgy silence in the room and I shifted in my chair, my gaze falling back upon Mr. Destler. He seemed to be sketching the dining room, which struck me as odd, because all the sketching was finished.

As if he sensed my eyes, he looked up at me with an unreadable expression before setting his pencil down and sliding the papers underneath his briefcase.

"I think it may be a couple of days before that is possible, Miss Daae."

His voice was like honey and I savored it for a few moments before his words registered.

"Why is that?"

Again, I didn't get an answer, and I frowned, more than a little irked. It was too early in the morning for him to be cryptic.

"Well?" I addressed both of them, "what have we got here?"

Mr. Destler almost sneered as he answered me. "What we've got, Miss Daae, is one irritating client, and one even more irritated architect."

"Really?" I asked in surprise. "What has Mr. Silver done, specifically?" I watched his golden eyes blaze.

"He decided that he didn't like the design for four of the rooms. Says they're not _lavish _enough." His hand grasped the side of the table tightly. "That insufferable man does not understand the meaning of true and simple beauty."

"So you're going to redraw them?" I asked carefully.

"Yes," He said, calmly enough to frighten me, "if it will suit the _Monsieur._" His tone was not playful, and I knew enough not to push him. Instead, I turned to Nadir.

"Was there anything else that needs to be done?"

"Well," Nadir answered, "I wanted to show you the site, Christine. There are some things you ought to see before we officially begin construction."

"All right." I stood. "Before I leave, Mr. Destler, have we covered everything in terms of our meeting?"

"I believe so." He answered curtly.

I nodded, and Nadir took me by the arm.

"Come. There was some concern surrounding the porch overlooking the river…"

He began steering me outside, but my gaze lingered on Mr. Destler's form. "Will you be alright on your own, Mr. Deslter?"

"Oh yes." His voice was icy steel and it made me shiver. "If you happen to see our beloved client, tell him to keep away from this trailer. And if he doesn't heed your warning, you might suggest that he keeps his hand at the level of his eyes."

My eyes narrowed in confusion, but Nadir half- pushed me out of the door and closed the door tightly behind us. He began walking quickly and I had to run to catch up with him.

"What was that?"

"Oh dear…" Nadir's only answer was his pale skin.

"What did he mean, his hand at the level of his eyes?"

"None of your concern…" He said shortly. Under his breath, I heard him muttering. "Oh, but this is bad. Mr. Silver shouldn't have angered him so…"

I kept silent, allowing the subject to drift away as Nadir led me to the center of the field where workmen were drawing premature lines for the foundation of the building. I met with one of Nadir's associates, Mr. Fitzsimmons, and the three of us discussed the problems with the marshland right by the river where Mr. Silver had wanted to build a sunroom. We also discussed plans for building an outdoor pool house and an indoor pool in the back of the house. Mr. Silver met us halfway through the conversation, and asked for Mr. Destler. Nadir simply said that he was inaccessible at the moment. Eventually Mr. Fitzsimmons had to leave, and Nadir and I began to walk back to the trailer.

"Do you think he is still angry?" I asked quietly. It may have been an inappropriate question, but when he was angry, Mr. Destler was a scary person to be around.

Nadir shrugged. "Perhaps you can calm him down, Christine."

I remained quiet as I followed Nadir. His words seemed off. Did he know about my music lessons and the other, tender side of the angel?

His cell phone rang and I heard a soft groan.

I arched an eyebrow. "Your sister-in-law?"

Nadirs paled again, and flipped open his cell phone. After a quick hello, he began speaking rapidly in another language. I stood surprised, my eyes wide as my ears took in the unfamiliar language. He made a farewell gesture to me and quickly hurried in the other direction, speaking frantically into his phone.

I sighed, pushing open the door to the trailer. Mr. Destler's eyes met mine, a stormy swirl of gold on brown.

He was drawing sketches again, and I went to sit down beside him.

"Which room are you drawing?"

"Second bedroom." He muttered, filling in the yinyang at the bottom of the page. My gaze fluttered over all of the other papers strewn across the table, and I noticed that they all had yinyangs at the bottom where the architect's name should have been. Then his cell phone rang and I nearly groaned with him. I didn't know her, but Carla was beginning to bother me.

My eyes almost popped out of the sockets when he too began speaking in the foreign language. He nodded a few times, pinching the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he carefully returned all of the yinyang signed designs back into his briefcase. There was a moment when he paused, and his gaze locked on mine for a second in which my heart did not beat, and then he gave the other line a curt answer and shut the phone closed.

Briefcase in tow, he started towards the door. Without turning, he spoke. "I will not be available for lessons for the remainder of the week, Miss Daae. I have unfinished business I need to attend to."

My stomach dropped and my heart beat painfully inside my chest. _Won't be available? But you are my angel_… I stood quickly, my feet bringing me to stand next to him. I searched his face.

"But…" _Please don't leave me… not after everything you've done for me._

"I'm sorry." He said, quietly.

I gazed up at him, trying to suppress tears. I knew it wasn't fair of me. He obviously had a life outside of my lessons… but I liked to think that the time I spent with him in that music room was exclusively for me. I liked to think that when he was my angel, he was only _my_ angel. 'I'm sorry' seemed like such an inadequate excuse.

"Why?" I asked faintly, trying to catch his eye. He seemed uncomfortable, and wouldn't look at me.

"Carla…" He didn't finish the sentence, and there was a moment when we stared at each other before he tipped his hat to me. "Good day, Miss Daae." And then he was out the door.

"Wait!" I called after him, standing at the threshold of the open door, but he was running across the field, and I leaned back against the door.

Who was this Carla who was stealing my angel away from me?

* * *

I got back from the meeting around the leisurely hour of four o'clock, so I had time to spare before my date with Raoul. I sat with Shadow on the couch, flipping through the channels we got through our cable connection. When Meg's grandfather clocks stroke five, I leaned forlornly against shadow's fur, wishing I were just opening the door to the music room.

I sighed. If he couldn't teach me, it didn't mean I was going to neglect my music. I climbed the stairs towards my room and reopened the closet with my father's music. Sifting through sheets of music, I found an old lullaby my father had written. I pulled it out, and locked the closet.

I got a drink of water, went through my warm up exercises, and began to sing.

I had gotten through three of my father's songs by the time Meg got home from the office, at seven thirty. I put away all of the music and told Meg about my date with Raoul. She smiled.

"Do you need help with an outfit, Chrissie?"

I nodded, also smiling, while inside I felt guilty for leaving her out the past few weeks. Everything had been so hectic; I hardly had time to explain it to her.

She helped me into a beige sweater and a jean skirt with a pair of her brown leather boots, and did my makeup. I was just putting half my hair back into a clip when the doorbell rang and Meg shouted up to me.

I grabbed a small purse from my closet and went down stairs to meet Raoul. He smiled faintly when he saw me, taking my hands in his.

"Good evening Christine, you look beautiful." I smiled at him, waving at Meg before exiting the house.

"What have you planned for us?" I asked as I slid into his passenger seat.

"You'll see, Christine," He said with a sly smile, looking out the back of the car as he maneuvered out of the driveway. "I just hope you like Chinese."

The restaurant was a buffet, and after we had gotten our food, Raoul and I found ourselves in a tense silence, much like the one in the car.

I swallowed a mouthful of white rice and took a sip of water before looking up at him. He was smiling at me, and I quickly shoved another forkful of food into my mouth to avoid speaking.

"I'm glad you like the food Christine." He said. "I know a lot of good Chinese restaurants I can take you to."

I closed my eyes against the cheerful note in his voice. Sometimes it made me feel guilty that I didn't enjoy his company nearly as much as he enjoyed mine. I nodded and he stretched his hands out in front of him.

The waiter retrieved his plate and I sighed, setting down my fork and looking up at him seriously.

"Raoul, I'm sorry about everything that happened. I'm a hard person to be around…" _On many different levels. _

He offered me a gracious smile. "It's okay Christine. I know I said some ill-considered things. Maybe you're right, and we should just forget about it."

I sighed, hearing the slight edge in his voice. I had been so cold to him.

"Do you have any cousins?" I asked arbitrarily, trying to change the subject.

A surprised looked entered his eyes before he answered. "Yes, I have three. One lives in California, her name is Francesca. She's going to UCLA with my sister. One lives in New York with my Aunt and Uncle. He's only two. His name is Robert. And then my other cousin, Suzanne, lives in Europe. She actually married into the nobility, so she's a duchess now…"

"Your cousin Robert." I said, "He's two?"

"Yeah."

"Are you good with him?"

"Yeah. I love being around him. Whenever I visit I try to take him with me everywhere. He's a really great kid."

"That's great." I said encouragingly.

"What about you, Christine, are you good with kids?"

"Well actually," I couldn't keep a smile off my face. "When I lived in New Hampshire, I used to volunteer at the ice skating rink to help teach the little kid classes. There were these twins, Alexandra and Samantha Hepurn. They must have been the two most adorable girls I've ever seen. They would follow me around the rink and wouldn't listen to the teacher. They'd only listen to me. They were so great, and the parents invited me to come to dinner with them once. I was really great with them."

Raoul grinned. "I love kids."

"So do I."

He leaned back against his chair. "Did you ever think about having kids?"

I felt a faint blush paint my cheeks. "Perhaps."

"How many would you want?"

"Oh, I don't know…" I said softly, "two I think."

"Why two?"

I lowered my eyes to my plate and pushed the food around. "One to look like me, and one to resemble…"

"The father?" I looked up at him and his gaze was strong and sure.

"What about you?" I asked.

"Three. Or maybe more. I don't know, I really like kids. I'd like to have a lot."

I swallowed, standing up and making the excuse that I wanted more food from the buffet. The way he was looking at me was making me uncomfortable. As if he thought… my mind couldn't even begin to go there.

I returned to the table and he engaged me in small talk, as though he sensed my discomfort. In that way we talked away the night, joking and chatting about everything and nothing. When he led me back to his car, I smiled at him.

"What was it like to have siblings?"

"Marvelous. Always having someone to rely on."

I nodded as he pushed on the gas pedal.

"Your sister Penny, how old were you when she was born?"

"Almost six."

"So do you remember a lot from when she was a baby?"

"Oh yeah." He snorted. "She used to cry all the time. I promised myself I would never get a baby girl, but in reality, any kind of child would be okay by me."

"Would you adopt?"

"Definitely. If my wife couldn't conceive or… I don't marry… I'll definitely adopt."

I nodded and sat silently for the rest of the car ride. The trees and quaint little houses passed by in a smear of gray and black and bright lights until we reached the familiar blue house with the concrete steps.

I smiled at Raoul when he opened my door.

"Thanks for the night. I'm glad we put everything behind us."

"Yeah." He offered me his hand and led me up the stairs to my door. "I want to forget our fights because I love being with you so much…"

I looked away from him, but his hand grasped my chin and tilted it up to look into his eyes.

"Christine, I… I've fallen-"

In a desperate and quick motion, I pressed onto my toes and kissed him. I still couldn't let him say it.

He pulled me closer to him, wrapping his arms around my waist and kissing me back. He pulled his mouth off of mine and instead hugged me, his hand playing with my loose curls.

"Oh Christine… I-"

"I need to go." I whispered quickly. He nodded against me before pulling away.

"Work early tomorrow morning?" He asked smiling, pushing a piece of hair behind my ear. I nodded.

"Well, I suppose I can't take you away from work." I shook my head and he chuckled, kissing my cheek.

"I'll call you tomorrow and we can make plans, alright? I had a great time tonight."

"Me too."

He smiled and kissed me once more before retreating down the steps. I sighed and waved him off as he drove away. I turned towards the door and went through my purse to find my keys.

I cursed softly as they fell to the ground and knelt to pick them up. A small gasped of surprise left my lips. Lying next to the fallen keys was a scarlet red rose tied with a black ribbon.

I lifted the delicate flower into my hands and inhaled the heavenly scent. _Only one angel could have sent such a divine gift…_ My fingers grazed paper and I opened my eyes to see a card lined the same black ribbon, with a yinyang engraved in the center.

I opened it, and in the same beautiful calligraphy as the last rose, there was a message:

"_To my Mona Lisa_

_-Your Angel of Music."_

**Yay. I'm very, very, completely, absolutely, from the bottom of my heart sorry I didn't update sooner. I had more finals… they didn't end until Wednesday! Anyway. I am planning on getting chapter eleven up TOMORROW for all of you faithful readers! (And chapter 12 if I finish it but I highly doubt that) Because- and, my dear, dear readers, I say this with a heavy heart- I am leaving for three weeks and therefore will be away from a computer, and will not be able to update.**

**So… read and enjoy the next two chapters… I love you guys! I loved writing this chapter.. I hope you guys like it and thought it was a sufficient update:)**

**When I get back I will try my hardest to write quickly!**

**Yay! Read, Review and ENJOY!**

**By the way, I hope you guys all caught the all important symbol!  
IceCliff**


	11. Chapter 11

**All will be explained in the next chapter's author's note, including my inexcusably late update… I will also answer all your reviews in the next chapter, which I sincerely hope will be up soon. Let me just give you a hint of what will be there: I'M SO SORRY!…**

**With this chapter, it is quite vital that you infer… yes, everything here has many meanings… INFER! INFER!**

_The woman watched him from across the room, taking small steps, as a predator would approach its prey._

_"Erik."_

_He didn't turn fully, but inclined his head in her direction. _

_"I can help you." She sat daintily beside him on the windowsill._

_"You can't." His voice was quiet, lest someone hear them. "I'm in too much trouble with the Council."_

_"Yes, but I can help you." She insisted._

_"You cannot." He said firmly. "They have already condemned me and sent my case to the Head of the Judiciary."_

_"I know. He will make his ruling Erik, and then you will be killed."_

_"I do not wish to speak of this with you." He said plainly, standing to leave._

_She laid a hand on his arm. "Whom else would you speak with? My brother Nadir?" She sneered. "He cannot help you as I can, Erik."_

_"I do not request your help nor will I accept it."_

_"You would rather die?" She demanded._

_"Perhaps. I'd rather die and avoid whatever retribution you will require for your help."_

_She pushed him back into the chair. "Retribution? I wouldn't call it that, my unfortunate friend."_

_He remained silent and turned his head from her._

_"Don't turn away from me! Keep your eyes in my sight; I daresay the rest of you isn't anything to look at. Make me forget that and I may not help you."_

_"I don't want your help." He said, his eyes blazing. "Don't make me show it to you. I don't make it a habit of hurting women."_

_"An empty threat! You are going to need my help! I can save your life, Erik." She positioned herself on top of him, grinding her hips into his. "And the price is very small… you may even enjoy it…"_

_"No, Carla-"_

_"Shh, Erik, you speak too much." She put her mouth to his ear. "Listen to me closely. I hold an office of great power. I can get you out of here if you agree to the terms of my offer."_

_"No." He said harshly, hoisting her off of him. "I refuse."_

_"So then you will die." She said angrily. He gracefully shrugged his shoulders._

_"Damn you, hideous man! You'd give up your life! I offer you the chance to start fresh in a new country. You could gain more power there then you did here… you could rule! And yet you refuse! You foolish, imprudent man!"_

_"_Watch your language, Carla._" His hands came around her neck. "I will not be mocked by the likes of you. I hold your life in my hands, and I will kill you without a moment's thought."_

_"You _need_ me to survive. Do not be fooled by my brother, he cannot help you as I can."_

_"I need _NO ONE!_" His hands tightened with rage._

_"Erik!" She wheezed, "Kill me and you lose all hope."_

_"It makes no difference to me." His eyes glowed. "In fact, I believe I may obtain a certain amount of pleasure from the act…"_

_"Don't be so stupid. I'm offering you what will never be offered again! Your life… and passion! No woman will ever again offer you such."_

_"I do not agree with other people's terms. Especially-" His hands tightened a bit more, "the terms of dirty politicians who deserve to die anyway. So I will allow you to save me. But I will not sleep with you."_

_Her eyes narrowed. "What I will do for you will break many laws and risk my life as well as the lives of my family! And you will have me do it for nothing?"_

_"I do not care what you receive from it."_

_She stared at him for a moment before a small, deadly smile crept upon her lips. "Yes, fine, Erik. Then I will save you. If you will not take me, at least let me reap your other benefits. How terrible could that be for you? At the price of your life? I hear you speak of the kisses you will never receive… I will give you all that you wish for… if not _that_."_

_A muscle in his jaw twitched as he watched the conniving woman. He didn't want to… he was repulsed by the thought of it… He pressed his lips together and looked down at her._

_She traced her fingers over his lips. Victory was hers, and she was well aware of it. "Come Erik, we will retrieve my useless brother. We have much to discuss."_

Regret is one of those emotions that eats at you until you give up. It's like a little voice of guilt that whispers broken promises of yesterday. It was the feeling that enveloped me as I sat at the silent breakfast table that morning.

Meg pushed her food around with her fork, glaring at the eggs as if they had caused the uneasy air in the room. Shadow was unusually quiet, although I had always suspected that he was overly sensitive to human emotions. I sat on the other side of the table, sipping my orange juice as silently as possible, fruitlessly attempting to become invisible. It was unnerving how easily I fell into the roll of The Accused.

For the accusation that morning was soundless yet overwhelmingly clear. I had woken up at sunrise and taken my shower as usual. Meg normally bathed after I did, and on my way out of the bathroom I offered her a smile. Her glare was stony. I met her half an hour later in the kitchen, and saw that she had only cooked breakfast for herself. She sat down with her food without so much as a glance my way.

I found myself arranging sentences in my head, should she break the silence and begin a conversation. Yet Meg was resolute; she did not seem the least bit inclined to acknowledge my existence. I sighed, setting down my glass with more force than was needed

"I'm sorry," I offered, my eyes settling on her form.

She speared a tater tot with her fork and brought it to her mouth.

"I know I've been a terrible roommate these past couple of days," I added, "Everything has been so overwhelming."

"It's not even that, Christine." Meg said harshly. "Last night I lent you my clothes and made you beautiful for Raoul. You didn't even remember to thank me. I tried to do all these little things for you so you could remember that we are best friends, but you don't let me in anymore. I'm your assistant to an architectural project I know nothing about, I'm cooking your meals and taking care of Shadow and taking your calls and helping you with a boyfriend about whom you've told me nothing. You say you have no time to talk to me, and that your schedule is crazy, and yet you still find time to make mysterious stops at the Opera House."

I hiccupped, nearly dropping my fork and pressing a hand to my throat.

"Yes, I know about your trips to the Opera House," Meg continued. "I knew there had to be something keeping you away from me. What is it, Christine? What's going on with you?"

"Meg…" I searched for words. All my previously thought out replies left me. I had not expected this. "Meg… it's so much. It's everything. It's Raoul, who's pushing a relationship I don't even know I want, it's the building, it's Mr. Destler's incredibly mysterious nature, it's-"

"Wait- stop! Christine, slow down. What did you say about Raoul?"

I stared at her, realizing too late my ill-considered words. Everything had simply rushed out… "I didn't mean it that way." I amended. "It's just that… things are happening too fast. I can't even think about what I'm doing. How well do I really know him? How do I know I can trust him, if it's only been a month and he's already trying to tell me he loves me?"

Her eyebrows lifted. "He said he loved you?"

"He tried. I didn't let him. I couldn't let him! Meg- can you understand?" I asked desperately. "I _can't_ hear those words. I can't hear them and know he will one day retract them…. One day when he sees…"

"Oh Chrissie…" Her eyes softened in compassion. "I'm sure he would never do that…"

"Don't ever be so trusting Meg." I warned wearily. "The human race doesn't deserve it."

A pitying smile crossed her face for a moment before she reached over and took my hand in hers. "What else is going on? With work, you mentioned?"

I sighed, using my free hand to push my hair out of my face. "The building is coming along… its not that. It's… Mr. Khan and Mr. Destler. They are so mysterious and confusing sometimes… I feel like I can never keep up. And then… _my angel…_"

"What?" Meg's eyebrows drew together in a frown. "What do you mean, Angel?"

"Meg," I whispered, "I've been singing again. I have been visited by the Angel of Music."

"… Christine, you're not making sense."

I searched her face, trying to make her understand. "Meg… you know how close my Father and I were. He used to tell me stories of an Angel of Music that would visit me after his death… and I have met that Angel. Truly, Meg, I have. He teaches me, at the Opera House… _makes my song take flight…"_

"Are you talking about a man?" Meg asked slowly.

Her question seemed so ridiculous. To deem him simply a man? "Of course not Meg. He is so much more. He is an Angel."

"I don't understand Christine." Meg said softly. "And it makes me worried… has someone been taking advantage of you?"

"No!" I nearly laughed. "No, Meg… listen. It's hard for me to explain… perhaps he is only a man to the world. But he is my angel."

Meg sighed. "So this man has been teaching you to sing?"

I nodded.

"I don't get it. You said you would never sing again."

I tugged on one of my curls. "Things changed." I said quietly "He… brought back my music. He knows me… truly knows me Meg. He makes me feel… beautiful."

There was silence for a moment. The statement sounded odd coming from my mouth. It took a lot for someone to make me feel beautiful.

"Christine, who is he? You make it sound like you have… feelings for him."

I nearly choked. "Feelings? For my angel? Meg-"

"Christine, you've got to stop using those metaphors. We're talking about a man." I blinked at her, and she sighed. "It just seems like you feel so close to this man."

"I do. But because he is my guide, and my light." I tried to refrain from calling him an angel. "He is my teacher. I don't… I mean, I couldn't… I couldn't feel that way about him." I dropped my gaze from hers as I stuttered through the answer. The truth was, I could, and I knew I could.

Meg raised one skeptical eyebrow, as if she knew was I was thinking.

"Please believe me Meg." I pleaded softly. Maybe she wouldn't believe me, but I couldn't explain the way I actually felt about him. I just knew that I didn't feel the way she though I did. I sighed. "You're accusing me of cheating on Raoul. You know I wouldn't do that to anyone."

Meg looked away from me. "I don't know anything anymore, Christine." She started to get up, and I nearly leapt across the table, pulling her back down.

"Meg- please! I can't explain everything to you right now… it's all so very confusing. I can only tell you that I'm sorry, and I love you. Please except that for now?"

"I don't know Christine…" She pulled her hand out from under mine. "But I've got to go to work. And you do also…" She sighed once more. "And Raoul wanted you to meet him for lunch."

"Thank you." I said quietly, defeated, as she walked out of the room. I collected both of our breakfast plates and dumped them in the sink, reminding myself to wash them off later. I patted Shadow gently on the head as I passed him and made my way upstairs to my room. I picked up my cell phone and quickly dialed Raoul's number.

"Christine. Its good to see your name." He greeted me warmly, and I smiled.

"Hey. Meg said you wanted to get together for lunch?"

"Yeah." He drew the word out. "There's been a slight change in plans."

"Oh?" I pulled on a gray blazer and hitched a bag over my shoulder.

"Yeah." He said again. "My car broke down."

"Oh." I paused, surprised. "Are you alright?"

"Fine, I'm fine." I could picture him waving it off with a smile. "It wasn't an accident or anything, I just can't get the engine to start."

"Okay." I descended the stairs and walked outside to my own car. "So, what do you want to do?"

"Well, I can get myself there just fine, but you should know where it is because I can't pick you up."

"Alright." I took out a pen and pencil from my bag and copied down the address of the restaurant Raoul had picked up.

"Thanks," I said, putting the pad of paper on my dashboard.

"Right then, so, I'll see you around one?"

"Yes." I turned the key in the ignition and checked my rear- view window.

"Well, it sounds like you're ready to go, so, I'll see you later."

"Alright, bye."

I flipped the cell phone closed and backed out of my driveway. The drive to my office was mundane and somewhat long, and I beat a slow rhythm on the wheel as I waited for a red light to change.

My cell phone jumped and rang again, and I looked over at the view screen. I didn't recognize the number. Frowning, I opened it and pressed it to my ear.

"Hello?" The light changed and I pressed lightly on the gas.

"Christine?"

"Nadir?" I asked, somewhat surprised. He sounded distressed.

"I'm sorry if this will inconvenience you, but Mr. Destler and I have decided to move our meeting to 2:30."

I blinked, turning a sharp corner. "Meeting?"

"Yes, you know, the one scheduled for one o'clock?"

I had completely forgotten. If I had known, I wouldn't have told Raoul I'd meet him at one. But there was no use in conveying to Nadir how unorganized I had become. I muttered an acquiesce.

"Well, it's at 2:30 now. Can you make that?"

"I believe so." I said shortly, pulling into my parking spot in front of the office.

"Good. Great. Thank you, Christine." He again sounded distressed, and a bit rushed.

"Right. Goodbye." I tossed the cell phone into my bag and stepped out of my car. I didn't think much of the time change; I simply figured that Mr. Khan and Mr. Destler found themselves too immersed in the work to meet at one. I was sadly mistaken. When would I learn to put two and two together?

* * *

Raoul and I met in front of a small little Italian restaurant. It was small and homely, much like the other restaurants he had brought me to. I studied his profile in the warm sun as we walked up the pathway, and I felt a sudden rush of warm feelings at the familiarity of him. He caught me looking at him and smiled back, putting his arm around my waist and pulling me into him.

"What's going on inside of that pretty little head of yours?" He asked slyly.

"What do you mean?" I suppressed a small giggle.

"Don't try to feign innocence." He joked, poking me in my side. "You had a positively coquettish look about you."

"Did I?" I smiled into his blue eyes.

"Yes." He gave me a small peck on my lips. "And don't go about loosing it either."

"Oh, Raoul…" I faked a sigh and shook my head, but I was laughing, and Raoul and I entered the restaurant in high spirits.

The waiter sat us down almost immediately, and I looked curiously at Raoul after I set my napkin on my lap.

"What?" He asked, a small smile still gracing his lips.

"Maybe it's just me, but it seems like you take to me to the same kind of restaurants each time."

He snorted. "I'm sorry honey, it's just you."

"Raoul!" I hit him on the arm, and he cradled the injured limb protectively. "Seriously, though." I said, "Are you trying to take me to every quaint, unheard of eatery in the town? Is it like some kind of contest?"

Raoul laughed again, but it lacked the earlier mirth. "To tell you the truth, Christine, I do have a reason for bringing you to these out of the way places."

He paused and I raised an eyebrow. "Do proceed, good _Monsieur._"

"Well… do you remember our first date?"

I blinked. "Yeah. At that Zoe place. Why?"

"You remember that little girl who came up for my autograph?"

"Yeah, sure." I shrugged. "So what, don't you get that all the time?"

He sighed. "I do, and that's the thing. I wanted to go someplace where the press and the overbearing public couldn't stick their noses." He reached across the table to take my hand. "I wanted to be alone with you. I didn't want a million people asking my for my autograph and asking you to comment on that article."

Looking into his eyes, I realized how right he was. In the days and even weeks after the article came out, I had noticed that suppressed whispers and suspicious glances followed me as I did the most mundane things.

"Thank you, Raoul." I said quietly.

"For what?"

I began to feel uncomfortable, and my voice dropped so it was almost inaudible. "For… thinking about me. About us. For… caring."

He squeezed my hand, and I looked back up at him. "Your completely welcome, Christine. You know I would do anything for you." He smiled and patted my hand before picking up the menu.

"What do you think?" He mused. "A tofu sandwich- their vegetarian lunch specialty- or a salad?"

I was silent, simply staring at him. _No, I don't know that you would do anything for me._ Where had that come from? Was it simply what his male psyche told him a woman likes to hear? I was caught completely off guard by his statement. It made my feel exposed, as if he had flung my insides on the table for inspection. The intimate way we had been joking about suddenly seemed _too_ intimate. I wasn't ready for that kind of connection with someone. An almost claustrophobic feeling set in on me.

I was scared- genuinely scared of the direction things were going. I was scared about being close to him. And it made me feel terrible.

He smiled boyishly at me. "Why the pensive look? I didn't think it was rocket science."

I smiled faintly and picked up my own menu so I wouldn't have to see him in his innocence. I felt like slapping myself for how I was treating him. Hadn't I seen how good we were together? How perfectly we could joke and be with each other? _What was I scared of? _Raoul was practically offering himself to me on a silver plate. Was it his eagerness that bothered me? His forwardness?

No, I was flattered by his attention. He made me feel normal. And yet…

"Miss, may I take your order?" I blinked up at the waiter, and he smiled at me.

"Oh, uh…"

The waiter smirked, and then went through the list of their lunch specials for that day, including the soup and entrée of the day and his personal suggestion.

"I think I'll just have a salad." I said somewhat sheepishly. "With a… diet coke, please."

"Right, Miss." He wrote my order with a flourish and collected our menus.

Raoul and I looked at each other.

"When do you think your car will be fixed?" I asked.

"By tomorrow, probably." He answered. "They said it was a small problem."

"That's good." We lapsed into silence. I couldn't think of a word to say. My mind was wandering. Today, he had told me he would do anything for me. Yesterday he had thrice tried to tell me that he loved me. It was overwhelming. I didn't think another person could truly feel that way about me, let alone try to convey it to me. I was still healing from my six- year old scars, both mental and physical.

"Actually Christine, there is something I need to talk to you about." He sounded hesitant.

"Oh?"

"Yeah." He paused and I looked at him expectantly. He let out a slow breath. "Well, you wouldn't want to have a redo of that party, would you?"

Surprise overtook me. "What?"

"The party. One of my friends is throwing another party at his estate uptown… I was wondering if you'd like to go with me."

I stared, taking in the way he said 'estate' and not 'house' as if the word wasn't good enough for the upper class.

My voice was low. "After what happened at the last party, you'd still ask me this?"

He shrugged uncomfortably. "I wanted you to go with me, Christine."

"When is it?"

"Two nights."

"I don't know Raoul… is it black tie?" I was shying away from the real question I wanted to ask: _Will your mother be there?_

"Yeah."

"Does it mean a lot to you?" I asked quietly.

He took my hands in his and held them across the table, looking at me intensely. "Christine, it means a lot to _us_. It's our chance to put the past away. And… if you don't come with me, my parents are going to make me take Celia."

_Celia? _Why did that suddenly make me jealous?

"The girl the article said was the favorite for me to wed." Raoul added softly.

Oh._ Oh._ I looked down at the tabletop to avoid his gaze. I was so disgusted with myself. What gave me the right to feel jealous when he was around other women when I treated him so badly?

In truth I was surprised to feel jealous. I hadn't felt that way before, certainly not when the article had mentioned her…

The waiter set a green filled plate in front of me, and it clicked. This was exactly why I was scared. I was scared of becoming too close to him. I was scared he would leave for another woman. _I was scared to fall in love with him… scared to realize I might be too late…_

Throughout all the little irritating things he had down, deep down he had been growing on me. I hadn't realized it then, and maybe my real reason for kissing him last night was to stop him from saying the three little words, but I had enjoyed it. I enjoyed his sweetness and his humor… I _enjoyed_ being annoyed with him. I appreciated everything he had done to keep our relationship together, the earnest way he pursued me…

I ate quickly, trying to get the thoughts out of my mind. I didn't love him, that I knew. But I could. _Just the way I could love my angel._ I fiercely stabbed a tomato with my fork. Why was it all so confusing! I was teetering dangerously on the edge of two cliffs; someone was bound to get hurt.

Raoul said no more about the dance and paid for lunch. After that he took me outside and we walked quietly down the sunny sidewalk.

"Do you mind if we sit?" He asked, "My foot hurts from some training I was doing this morning."

"Sure." We sat and his arm automatically came around my waist. I felt something snap in my mind- I had to stop playing with him! I had to make up my mind. I had to know! Either I would love him or I wouldn't. I curled my arm around his neck and brought his lips down forcefully against mine. He turned in his seat to completely envelope me in his embrace. He pressed me against him, gently rubbing my back. I brought my other hand to his chest, feeling the stiff muscles beneath his shirt. He kissed my neck, and I was concentrating so hard on figuring out how I felt that I didn't know _what_ I was feeling. I pressed my hand to the back of his neck and kissed his lips again, opening my mouth slightly. Raoul tried to take entrance, but immediately pulled back at the sound of loud buzzing. We stared at each other, breathing hard.

"You bag is ringing." He said hoarsely, seeming a bit dazed. He cleared his throat, and I blinked, picking up my bag and rooting out my cell phone. I checked the view screen.

_Mr. Destler._

I swallowed, looking up at the sky for a moment. _Why must You do this to me?_ Why?

"I'm sorry Raoul," I softly said, "I have to take this."

He nodded and I turned slightly away from him, opening the cell phone.

"Hello?" I tried to keep my voice from being shaky.

"Miss Daae." His voice was curt and yet unblemished. I closed my eyes.

"Yes?" My voice dropped to a near whisper. I didn't know how much longer I could keep up with this emotional roller coaster.

"Were you planning on showing up to our meeting?" He sounded quietly amused.

I checked my watch and then groaned, putting a hand to my forehead. "I'm sorry. I'll get there as soon as I can."

There was a distinct pause. "Were you indisposed?"

I ran my fingers through my hair. "No, I'm fine. I was… out to lunch. I'll leave immediately."

"Yes." His voice was flat. "See that you do."

He hung up and I stared at the phone for a few seconds before dumping it in my bag.

"Got to go?" Raoul asked.

I turned to him. "Yes, I'm sorry Raoul. I have a meeting at 2:30."

He nodded. "Its okay."

I gave him a small smile, giving him a peck on the lips. "I'll see you later."

"Okay." He gave me a small hug and then waved as I walked to my car.

* * *

The trailer stood as it always did, white and somewhat ominous looking, and the grounds looked the same. I often wondered, during the days after I entered the trailer, if anything had changed to alert me to what was going to happen. Were some flowers perhaps lying dead where they used to flourish? Were there storm clouds in the sky? Was there a noticeable chill in the air?

I practically launched myself at the trailer door. I hated when colleagues were late. It slowed things down so terribly.

"I'm sorry I'm late." I said immediately, closing the door behind me. "I wasn't watching the time." I turned to smile at them, and instead found my smile frozen as I stared at my chair. Or rather, who was sitting in my chair.

She was an especially pretty woman, with large black eyes and flowing dark hair. Her skin was tanner than Nadir's and it gave her the kind of sun-kissed look for which people in Carmel spent hours by the sea. Her lips were stained a pretty deep red, and her eyelashes were dark and thick. Her neckline plunged daringly low down her chest, showing the amount of skin that made me burn with jealously at my disfigurement. Her arms were long and slender and she wore a pair of black trousers that fit her perfectly.

I felt sort of like a fish out of water, facing the mermaid.

She smiled widely at me, and I remembered to close my gaping mouth. I glanced quickly at Mr. Khan who looked down.

"I hadn't realized there were other people working on this project." I addressed the woman carefully.

"My dear," the woman began in thickly accented English, "that depends entirely on which project we are discussing."

I blinked and she laughed quietly.

"My, you are a pretty little thing aren't you?" She asked, a slow smile spreading across her face. "Yes, indeed. What is your name?"

I couldn't find it in me to say anything. I felt somewhat dazed, not really comprehending the scene in front of me.

"Perhaps she is shy?" The woman turned towards Nadir. "Brother, who is she?"

_Brother?_ Through my haze, it all fell into place. _Carla._

Nadir sighed. "My sister, she is Christine Daae. She is the contractor for this building."

"How delightful!" She turned to me. "Do you enjoy this work Christine- if I may call you Christine?"

I nodded numbly.

"Marvelous." She grinned slyly at Mr. Destler. "Tell me, darling. Do you enjoy her company as well?"

My gaze fell upon Mr. Destler. He was watching me, his eyes glinted in- what? Concern?

"No matter my dear." Carla looked back at me, but this time I detected a particularly dark twinkle in her eyes. "I'm sure he likes you."

She stood, gesturing gracefully to my seat. "You may sit, Christine. I didn't meant to take away time from your meeting."

I didn't say anything, simply followed her hand as if I actually needed her permission to sit at the table. I could feel dislike take roots in my stomach.

I sat, my head falling into my hand. "Where are we?" I asked faintly.

Nadir gave me a sort of sympathetic look and then pulled a sketch of one of the rooms out of his manila folder.

"The workers were having a problem with this-," he pointed to a section of the room, "and they wanted to know if…"

The meeting when on as usual, and we discussed a number of different problems the workers were having with the foundations of the building. Throughout it all, I watched Carla and Mr. Destler out of the corner of my eye. I watched how she sat so close to him, how her silken hair spilled over his hands and on his lap. I watched how she questioned him on all of his sketches, touching his arm and laughing into his eyes. I could feel jealousy and anger flower within me.

No one had the right to my angel.

I ended the meeting tiredly, and Carla smiled at us.

"What an exciting enterprise you run, Christine." She ran her fingers through Mr. Destler's hair and I had to look away. Nadir's gaze met mine and I silently pleaded with him to make it stop.

"Thank you." I said shortly. I began to pack up my things.

"Oh, don't go!" Carla exclaimed. "I'm sure we can find lots to discuss. When did you all meet? Are you good friends?"

"Carla." Mr. Destler spoke. His voice was a warning.

Her eyes narrowed a fraction as she turned to look at him. "Yes, perhaps you'd like to tell us the story?" She lifted her hand to caress his lips. "You and Christine are great friends."

It wasn't a question. It was a statement, a command even. And there was odd emphasis on the word 'friends'.

"Carla." He warned again, his voice low.

"I'm simply stating a fact." Her voice was cold. "You are bound to me. We have an agreement. I trust you won't forget that."

"Carla, sister-" Nadir tried to intercede as I watched with a dumb sort of horror.

"Shut up you fool!" She lapsed into another language, whispering harshly at Mr. Destler. He answered in a monosyllable, and she brought her lips to his in one fluid gesture.

I blinked, and the image wasn't gone. I blinked again, and Carla wrapped her arms around his waist. My world exploded around the seams and I brought my hand to my lips to bite back a sob.

My Angel! How dare she take my Angel! His lips were sacred! They were heaven! They… _they were mine!_

She pulled away from him and ran her fingers down his face.

"This look is an improvement for you." She said cruelly. "It is certainly easier for me to kiss."

He wasn't looking at her. No, my angel's eyes sought out mine. I couldn't look at him. I was so ashamed… of the brazen way she took him… and so, so jealous.

She kissed him once more.

"_Your chains are still mine._" She slid her fingers suggestively down his chest and then stood, grabbed her bag and went out the door.

I tried to suppress tears. He was supposed to be my Angel of Music! How could he betray me with such a blatant breach of trust? All those things he said about relationships… about beauty… about yin-yangs! He lied! He wasn't any different from the rest of them! He could fall for a pretty face the same way any other man could. Even if she was vain and vile… she was still beautiful.

I had trusted him to be different. To be able to see beauty in a different way- to see _me_ in a different way. My heart began to hurt.

Nadir picked up his papers and coat and left quietly. I lifted my eyes to see a pair of gold ones staring at me somewhat desperately.

"Christine-"

"I have to go," I said quietly, picking up things.

"Christine, please."

I picked up my coat.

"Forgive me- please, I-"

I turned incredulously toward him. _Forgive you? You were supposed to be my Angel of Music. _A tear fell down my cheek unheeded and I swallowed a curse.

"Oh, Christine! You know it gives me pain to see you cry."

I was surprised as his tender words but refused to let them win me over. He was tethered to someone else.

"I'm sorry." I said, somewhat stupidly. I did not know why I was apologizing. "I'll see you later."

I made to leave, but his hand fell upon my shoulder.

"_Christine._"

His voice was different now; a commanding, lilting whisper, and it rendered me senseless. I turned to him, pulled by an invisible rope made with his voice, and his eyes burned into mine.

"Yes, Angel." The words were breathless and flowed out of me as if he had willed them.

He held out his hand and I found myself putting my hand in his, waiting for him to take me wherever he desired. I scarcely breathed for the power he had over me.

He grasped my hand tightly for a second, and then- I felt it! –he released me from his power(1).

"I will see you at our lesson, Christine." And then he put on his hat, nodded to me, and exited the room. I felt like fainting.

* * *

When I got home, there wasn't much to comfort me. Raoul had left a message on my cell phone, but I didn't feel like dealing with him at the moment. Meg wasn't home either, she had left a message on the answering machine to tell me that she had been invited to dinner and wouldn't be home until late.

I got myself an apple from the refrigerator and plopped down on the couch. I flipped on the TV and then tucked my knees in under me, watching the soap opera intently.

Meg liked to date around. Her issues with commitment had led to her break up with her three-month boyfriend last year, and she had dabbled in short relationships since then. This current one, if I had been keeping track, had been hanging around for two weeks, and I got the feeling that his days were numbered. I felt bad for her sometimes, especially when she came home from one-night stands in a weeping mess.

Of course, I thought, biting into my apple fiercely, I had no real right to feel bad for anyone, poor soul that I am. I thought so lowly of myself that pity from me was surely a terrible insult.

But Meg was beautiful. She was young and innovative, and she deserved a good, healthy relationship. She deserved a husband. She deserved better than me.

I mentally slapped myself. _Come on, Christine, snap out of the doldrums. This is totally unworthy of you. No good ever came out of self-pity._

And yet I enjoyed wallowing in it…

_This is ridiculous! Pathetic, weak fool! How dare you allow yourself to slip this low!_

I switched the TV off. Standing up, I tossed my apple in the garbage. I faced the door with grim determination. No one could make me feel that hopeless. I grabbed my coat from the floor and got into my car. I was going to the Opera House.

* * *

I had made a resolution in the car that I was going to confront him when I saw him. I was not going to let anything dissuade me from getting straight answers. That was the least that I deserved!

I had so blindly followed him for the past weeks; I had stopped searching for the answers that would seem so necessary for a relationship. I didn't know who he was; I didn't know his background, his age… I didn't know how he knew so much about me. It was frightening as I walked up the same wooden staircase I had climbed for weeks. It was frightening and made me feel vulnerable. How I had given myself to this man!

Did I even think of him as an angel anymore? Of course I did; parts of my mind and heart were so rigidly set on his persona as an angel that the altercation with Carla hardly shook them. In my mind he was still my angel of music. I still felt that strange attachment to him, born out of music, memories of my father, and an incomprehensible bond between the two of us. I still believed that he would be there for me when I needed him.

Strange thoughts indeed, for I had been so angry and so hurt just hours before. Now I was simply determined. I faced the wooden door that separated me from him. I was going to get to the bottom of this.

I pushed open the door with unneeded force to see him sitting in front of the piano in an innocent position. I felt like a sheriff in the old western movies, the one who calls, "Put 'em up, stranger!"

He didn't say anything to me and I let out an audible sigh, walking to my side of the piano and taking a sip of the water he had put out for me. I set the glass down harshly. I wanted him to know how I felt.

However, today he either chose to ignore me or wasn't feeling very perceptive, for he simply told me in a quiet voice that we were going over the same material we had learned last time, and that I should adopt the proper singing position.

I refused.

This seemed to surprise him, and he repeated his request in the same gentle voice. I again did not comply. He stared at the piano this time, his head dropping.

"I know I deserve this," he said quietly. "I know I deserve it and I'm so, so sorry."

I felt abashed at his humility, and fell back into my place as his student. Perhaps now was not the time to ask him questions… he began playing and I sang.

As the song proceeded however, my emotions flew from one high to another. I had made a resolution to myself! I couldn't let him get away with it, not this time...

…Except he was so genuinely sorry… Didn't I owe it to my angel to sing for him?

But I didn't owe him anything! He had betrayed me… he wasn't an angel! He was only a man… only a man…

But I _did_ owe him something. He had returned my music to me, even though I had protested. Any title he had I had given him; I had deemed him an angel and he had simply agreed to my desperate request. I had built him up in my mind as a saint, but that was no fault of his, nobody was perfect… hadn't I learned that?

A sob was mounting in my throat as I continued singing. What was the song about, anyway? I had no idea, I wasn't paying any attention. I could have been singing in Swahili for all the difference it made. Surely he would stop me… I needed more passion when I sang…

This final thought brought tears to my eyes and interrupted my song with a gasp for air between my cries. I remembered that music lesson we had had, the passion I had felt for him then… and all the closeness between us that had followed… how could I have forgotten?

"Christine?" He questioned timidly.

"Angel! Oh Angel…" I shook my head and sank to the floor and he made a desperate movement to pick me up, holding my arms at the shoulders.

"Christine, my Christine… please, what is it? What can I do? Christine!" He slid off the piano chair to kneel beside me. "Please, let me make up for what happened. Let me explain! Christine, _please don't cry_!"

I shook my head again, my sadness overwhelming the brief shame of having broken down before him.

"Angel, why do we do this to each other?"

"What? What, Christine, tell me?" His tone made me cry harder, the harsh reality of our emotions hitting me fully.

"The Music! Angel, Oh! Do we not share the same soul?" He was silent, and I continued. "Why do we continue to maim it with fire? Should we not heal it according to the music of love?" I lifted my head to meet his eyes through my tears. All I could see was blurry gold, and I searched the orbs hysterically. "Should we not? _Should we not_?" I felt as though I would shake him to get his answer.

"Christine!" He took hold me tightly, stopping my tirade. "My darling," he asked softly, "you speak from your soul?"

"From my heart."

"Yet they are one and the same."

I shook my head.

"No?"

"No." I whispered. "My soul is not my own. Music owns my soul. _You_ own my soul."

"And your heart?" His voice faltered.

"It is my own. Mine to give and to loose… mine to break."

"Don't speak of such things." He admonished softly.

"How should I speak, angel? You betrayed me."

His eyes dropped from mine and his grip on me loosened considerably.

"If I ever forgive myself for that I will surely go to the deepest pits of hell. Christine, if you think I ever meant to hurt you, you are so mistaken…"

"And yet you did."

His head hung low. "I made a foolish mistake. I…"

"Explain it to me angel. I want to understand… why?"

He shook his head. "Too many years to explain, too many things you could not understand."

"Then, Angel…" I looked at him helplessly. "How can I forgive you?"

"I don't know." He admitted. "I only beg for you forgiveness, for your compassion… the very kindness that carried me through years of hardship…"

I narrowed my eyes. " What do you mean?"

A soft smile appeared on his face. "Didn't you say that we shared the same soul? Perhaps you are wiser than you think."

I stared at him. He took my hand and lifted me from the ground.

"Listen, Christine. Maybe this is the only way I can explain myself to you."

He gestured for me to sit beside him on the piano, and he laid his fingers on the keys. He glanced at me sideways.

"Christine, sometimes things can be deceiving. Remember that while you call me the Angel of Music, there remains only one true angel in this room. For you, my Mona Lisa."

He began to play and I recognized the same, flowing music he had played several times before, the one he said he had been composing. I swayed gently to the music to the sweet melody, and then… and then he began to sing.

Mona Lisa, Mona Lisa 

_Men have named you._

_You're so like the lady with the mystic smile._

_Is it only because you're lonely? _

_They have blamed you…_

_For that Mona Lisa strangeness in your smile._

Is it possible to melt? Really, physically, melt before someone, instead adopting one single emotion, one impossibly strong feeling that wraps you in its warmth and allows your soul to soar? _He wrote this song for me… he wrote it about me… for me…_ I was past melting. I was realizing I had been past melting for a long time now… _he wrote this song for me…_

_Do you smile to tempt a lover?_

_Mona Lisa…_

My heart jolted, and I felt I would faint if he did not continue.

Or is this your way to hide a broken heart? 

He knew. He knew everything. He knew about Richard, about Raoul… he held me in the embrace of his music, completely and utterly _his_. No thoughts of anyone else penetrated my mind. Previous ties and feelings were forgotten. It was only him…

_Many dreams have been brought to your doorstep._

_They just lie there, and they die there._

_Are you warm, are you real?_

_Mona Lisa…_

_Or just a cold and lonely, lovely work of art?_

_Mona Lisa… _

I was his Mona Lisa. I wanted to remain so forever after…

Mona Lisa! 

The music faded away along with the last syllables of his voice, and we sat there, enveloped in the glory of his song.

_"Angel…"_

My eyes were so blurry with emotion I didn't realized he had moved until I felt his hands gently wiping the tears from my cheeks.

"Christine… Oh, Christine forgive me… it was all for you…"

I nodded absently, accepting the fact that we were undeniably bound to each other. He was my Angel of Music. I was his Mona Lisa. Together… we were Music.

"So beautiful…" I whispered, indicating towards the piano.

He took my hand gently in his and whispered my name like a ghost on the wind, his voice echoing through my head with its soft timbre and glory.

"It's all for you." He repeated. "It was always for you."

I stared at him, the image of a red rose tied with a black ribbon coming to my mind.

"It _was_ all you… everything…" I whispered. " The rose… everything…it was all you…?"

He nodded. "Only for you."

"Oh Angel…"

He held my hands in his for several more moments and we simply watched each other. Then he touched my cheek gently, and elegantly stood, kissing the top of my hand before letting it go.

"I must take my leave of you, Christine."

I nodded, turning the seat to watch him leave.

"Good night my dear."

"… Good night my angel…" The door closed and I looked back to the piano, sweeping my fingers of the keys. _My angel…_

**I hope you inferred. Like I said, it is quite vital that you infer...**

**Carla made her official appearance. As well as feelings for certain people... which I leave you to INFER for yourself...**

**Like I said, all apologizes will be made in length in the next chapter... a very important tunring point in the story.**

**I APOLOGIZE... I give thanks for all my readers who are still with me... you guys are so faithful!**

**Lovingly,**

**IceCliff**

1. That part is, of course, taken from the Susan Kay novel, where Erik controls Reza and Nadir with his voice and then Nadir remarks on how he feels the moment Erik released them from his power. That was a more direct taking of an idea from the novel, and I didn't want to get sued.


	12. Chapter 12

**Yes, I haven't updated in nearly a year. I'm terribly sorry. I've often thought of you. The complete truth is that I've had entirely too much work and a terrible case of writer's block. I literally stared at the computer for days with nothing to write.**

**For sport, try and see if you can find out where I stopped about a year ago and where I started writing again today. I hope the writing style hasn't changed immensely. This is an extremely important chapter. I hope I've done it justice. I plan to have more coming. Thank you!**

_Music sifted through the house, and the 15- year old girl stood in awe at the foot of the music room. The man continued playing, oblivious to his daughter's gaping. They swayed slightly to the music, the girl, the man, and the shadow who wrote it._

_ When it was over, the girl ran into the room._

_"Papa!" They both had tears running down their faces. "Where did you come upon such music?"_

_The man smiled slightly, and glanced into the shadows. "The Angel of Music, Christine."_

_She sat on the other end of the piano bench._

_"Why is the angel so sad, Papa?"_

_"Everyone in sad at one point in their lives." He said softly, almost wistfully. _

_"But he is an angel." The girl protested. She was still quite innocent in her views of the world… she was not yet accustomed to the cruelties that waited outside the warm circle of her father's protection._

_And so the man's response surprised her._

_"Erik could be whatever he chooses to be."_

_The shadow's eyes widened along with the girl's._

_"Erik?" She questioned. "Papa, we are speaking of the angel, are we not?"_

_"We are." The man said simply, trying to get a glimpse of the shadow in question._

_"The angel has a name?" _

_"The angel is Erik."_

_"I don't understand, Papa."_

_"You will child," the man reassured her, "one day, you will understand. One day, you and Erik will find each other. You won't need anyone but your angel."_

_The girl nodded, her head dropping. She still did not understand. The man kissed her forehead and stood to leave her with her thoughts._

_And yet she was not alone. She would never be alone._

_The shadow watched her, his eyes and ears yearning for her next action. She sighed and turned towards his music. Tears dripped from both of their eyes as she played._

_Who was this girl who his music so affected? Who was this girl with whom he was so intertwined? He could never be away from her. He never wished to be._

Ms. Kathryn Venis walked out of my office with a slight smile on her face. She was the new intern to take the place of Robin Thomson and Rebecca Worthington, the two interns I had fired because of the article about Raoul and me.

I had just given her the job with two weeks probation. She had a pretty good résumé, one of those naïve and earnest workers right out of college. To tell the truth I had hardly paid attention during her interview. But she seemed like a nice, quiet girl, just the type I needed right about now. I generously invited her on board before giving her the first assignment and dismissing her. I had no idea why I was in such a good mood.

I couldn't think straight. Not about any of the past week's events, and hardly about work. It felt as thought I hadn't been to the office for centuries. I could barely remember where I kept the stapler.

My mind was so completely filled with Raoul and Carla and Nadir… and Mr. Destler.

The name- the mere _thought_ of the name- made me shiver. It whirled in my head like a fly, his image and his music forever imprinted on my mind. I could hardly bare it! It seemed as though a day without his presence would be hell.

And it scared me. When had I ever depended so deeply upon another person? When had they mattered enough to me?

I still missed him. I wanted to hear his voice…

"Christine?" I jumped up from my seat as my door opened, my heart racing.

Meg gave me an odd glance.

"I didn't mean to disturb you, Christine."

I waved it off and sank down into my chair, resisting the urge to drop my head into my hands. I was so stupid! I had to stop thinking about him… I had to concentrate…

"… did you hear me, Chrissy?"

"What?" I blinked rapidly. "Of course I did…" I blushed profusely. "What did you say?"

"I said that Arthur has been frantically calling you for the past half an hour. And the Rocklands are on line one."

I cursed under my breath. The Rocklands were the most evil, self absorbed, rich family I had ever met in my life. They wanted my firm to build them a house.

Except we had finished the house two years ago. Now they spend their empty hours of the day calling me from each and every phone in their spacious house, requesting one last final touch to the house. I believe they are the devil incarnates.

I smiled sweetly at Meg and she made a face. She knew the problem with the Rocklands. Everyone in my department treated their name as if it were cursed. No one wanted to get the Rockland file.

"If Mr. Tater calls back, tell him I will be with him shortly."

Meg nodded and began to leave. Then she turned and saw that I had not picked up the phone. She gestured towards the blinking instrument.

"The royalty awaits." She said dryly.

I gave a short laugh and the resigned myself to an unpleasant day. Meg smirked and closed my door behind her as she left, and I picked up the phone and held it towards my ear.

"Hello Mr. Rockland!" I had never heard my voice sound so sickly sweet. "How _are_ you today?"

"Miss Daae?" I cringed. It was Mrs. Rockland. The only thing worse than a powerful man is the commanding woman behind him. "Miss Daae! Is that you?"

"Yes, yes it is."

"Well! How marvelous!" She had a southern drawl, and managed to draw out every vowel to horrifying extents. "I feel as though I haven't spoken to you in ages!"

"Yes. Unfortunately." I strived to keep the sarcasm out of my voice. "What can I do for you Mrs. Rockland?"

"Oh please!" She chuckled. "Call me Regina! After all, we've worked together for years."

I sighed. "Indeed. Regina." I paused. "What troubles you?"

"Troubles?" Another laugh graced my ears. "Why, nothing troubles me about your wonderful house, honey! It's simply a _little_ thing, I'm sure ya'll can take care of it right away, hmm?"

I longed to send that sugary voice far beyond the Mason- Dixon Line, where she could never bother me again.

"I'm sure we can, Regina." Sometimes I felt like Bob the Builder. "Why don't we set up an appointment, and I'll send some people to check out your… _problem._"

"That sounds marvelous. But, Christine-" I cringed at the pout in her voice. Had I given her leave to call me by my first name? "Won't you be coming along as well?"

"I'm afraid I won't be able to, Regina. I find myself immersed in work."

"Oh, how dreadful."

"Yes. Dreadful."

"Well then!" She sounded cheery again. "Can you send your lovely workers over next Sunday morning? My little Ralph has a soccer game, and then you can swing by."

"Yes, next Sunday sounds great. We'll keep in touch Mrs. Rockland."

"Yes, alright then. Good bye."

I hung up the phone and stared at its sleek blackness for a moment. Then I lowered my head into my hands and banged it against the desk.

_Why?_ Why was I plagued with such _useless_, _arrogant, haughty _clients?

I sighed, lowering my head lightly back onto my hands. All I had succeeded in doing was giving myself a headache. Things were not going my way today.

It was a normal Monday morning though, right? What had really changed? My desk was the same. I ran my fingers across it. Completely normal; it wasn't as if fur had grown out of the wooden groves. My hair was normal. I ran my finger through that too, and it felt the same as it had yesterday.

The air I breathed was the same; I waved my hands above my head and felt the same cold, wispy sensation I had felt every day of my life.

Everything was the same. What had changed?

_I_ had changed. The things around me, the tangible, real things had stayed the same, but I was wholly different. The universe still expanded, yes, and the earth still rotated, but me, in my little corner of Carmel, California, I was different.

It was the Angel.

There was no one else; it was the Angel.

My Angel.

Perhaps it seemed a bit weird for me to be calling him that now, of all times, but there was nothing else for me to do. I had forgiven him for anything he might have done… in fact, everything that had happened before that music lesson had faded into a dull haze. I hardly remembered the meeting, let alone the vile, dark haired woman. My mind had completely blocked it out. I didn't want to dwell on it. I didn't want to think of how he possibly could have betrayed me. No… I wanted to remember that song… our song… our connection.

It was hard to describe. I felt… drawn to him. As a singer, and as a man, he was enticing. Maybe that was the last thing I had admitted to myself, but in reality it was the first thing to draw me to him.

Mystery enshrouded him. Since I had first met him, his incredible good looks and his impossibly aloof manner made him desirable. He was dark, he was powerful… he was majestic! Elegance exuded from him, his manners were impeccable… and yet he had a rough side. A darker part of his mind that tempted me… he spoke of yin-yangs so eloquently, I deeply wished to explore those parts of him…those parts that seemed almost… dangerous. He was so different from anyone I had ever met… I couldn't help being attracted to him. He was always there! In one way or another, always on my mind, in my thoughts and in my dreams… how could I forget that week I spent encased in dreams and realities of him and his music? Indeed, the first thing to connect me to him was my real, physical attraction towards the man.

And yet he was so much more than a man; I sometimes felt silly addressing him as such. He was ethereal… a saving light, a haven, a float in deep waters… His soul was as much music as mine was… yet he _commanded_ music where I simply belonged to it. He embodied music… his voice was indescribable. It was… awesome. Almost fear- inspiring with its eternal beauty. I felt that his soul and his voice were one. His inclination to help and save had to come from somewhere deep within him- I knew there was incredible beauty bottled within him, whose only outlet was through his enchanting voice. The angelic part of him, that light… that piece of heaven… that attracted me as well. But in an entirely different way. That part attracted me in a scary way. In a deep, almost controlling way, so that I was completely lost to him.

He awakened in me the kinds of emotions I had believed I could never feel. I yearned to just _be_ with him… to just sit in his presence and hear his voice and receive his smiles. I never wanted him to be away from me; if he went after another woman I know that I would dissent into my shadows and myself. I would be so dulled without him beside me. He had introduced so much music and color into my life that to be without him was a slow death. So had I lost myself to him… so dangerous were my emotions…

I dropped my pen onto my leg, a sharp stinging sensation coursing up my thigh. I cursed, picking up the phone to stop the incessant ringing which had interrupted me.

"Christine Daae." I said shortly.

"Christine, its Arthur." Meg said softly. "He's on the other line."

I sighed. I just didn't want to be at work today… "Alright, put him through."

There was silence, and then a click. I heard heavy breathing.

"Christine? Christine!" He sounded frenzied, and I felt almost sorry for him.

"It's me, Arthur, what's up?"

"The, the curve- I mean arch, the arch… it's… the wall! The-"

"Arthur!" My eyes widened slightly at his incoherent string of words. "What's wrong? What's happened?"

"I… the wall—" he was nearly whimpering. He had never been one to be particularly authoritative or decisive, and big problems reduced him to a mess.

"Slow down." I instructed. "Tell me what happened, slowly and precisely. Whatever it is, we can fix it."

He seemed to take several long breaths before beginning. "They were… doing construction… for the new Opera. They were building a bridge below the archway that forms the ceiling of the stage. But… one worker connected the bridge lines to the catwalks above, which are connected to the walls and the ceiling… and then another worker connected it to the wall next to the boxes… and the plaster peeled and the bridge fell… and… and…"

"Clam down," I said softly, "what happened next?"

"The plaster peeled." He repeated. "The bridge fell… and it swung from the catwalks… and they collapsed, and the corner stone in the arch got loose… and now they are trying to keep the ceiling from caving in… and… we need the prints… the original prints… to fix the problem. Or else…"

"That whole part of the building could cave in." I finished for him.

"Yes… yes… Christine, we need your help. You have the blueprints on hand don't you?"

"Of course I do." I went over to my filing cabinet and started searching for them. "But don't you keep copies in the main office?"

"We do… but… I'm very disorganized; I couldn't possibly leave the scene now to go look for them… Christine, you could get here much faster and you have such a level head… you could be an immense help."

I resisted the urge to smile. Little did he know my ulterior motives… I desperately needed to get out of this office; I was suffocating.

"I'll be right there Arthur."

"Thank you!" He breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you Christine… G-d bless you!"

I hung up, somewhat amused by his obvious gratitude. I pulled out the file marked for the Opera House and stuffed it in my bag. I packed up my other things and arranged the other loose office supplies neatly on my desk. Satisfied, I drew the curtains on my windows and then exited the office, locking the door behind me.

Meg raised an eyebrow as I passed her desk.

"Mr. Tater needs my help at the Opera House." I stated. "If I have any calls, tell them I'm out, and that I'll get back to them tomorrow."

She nodded.

"Are you sure you want none of the calls put through to your cell phone?"

I frowned at the look she was giving me. "Of course I'm sure. Why, who called?"

She glanced back down at her notepad.

"Nobody in particular… I was just wondering…"

The way she said it made me hesitate. She was acting strangely again. Of course I realized that she must be put off by the way I had been treating her… but this was different. She seemed like she… knew something.

"Are you certain?" I asked quietly.

She appeared to muse on my question before responding.

"It's just that Mr. De Chagny called for you earlier. I didn't take a message, but I said you'd get back to him."

Raoul… my thoughts couldn't even begin to go there. I pushed it to the back of my mind. There was still something else… something about her tone…

"Is that… all?

"Why, Christine?" Her voice sounded almost… triumphant. "Were you expecting someone else?"

"No. No, not all." At least _that_ was truth. "But if someone called…"

"Someone indeed wanted to reach you." She quickly scribbled something on the pad of paper before ripping it off its backing and handing it to me. "Here." She said shortly, before standing up and brushing past me.

In Meg's very neat writing, the name was scrawled elegantly across the top box, indicating the caller.

_Mr. Destler _

_8:30 am No message left_

_9:30 am No message left_

_10:30 am No message left_

_Christine: we need to talk_

I arrived at the Opera House twenty minutes later, locking my car and efficiently swinging the bag over my shoulder and dropping the keys in my pocket. I felt like a CIA agent, ready to take on the newest problems.

The outside of the building was quiet, but that was to be expected. Arthur's problem had occurred above the stage, and the stage itself was located deep within the heart of the building, actually almost underground. It was like a pyramid, and Arthur and I had had to get quite technical when attempting to build the house. The stage's elevation reached high negative numbers on the blue prints, and the ceiling went very high, almost ten feet above the mezzanine sections, which were themselves unusually high. It all came to a very grand affect; there was no doubt that the building itself was a work of pure artistic genius. The room was vast, and it almost made your mind spin to take in the whole magnificent appearance at once.

But the plans had been so intricate, and Arthur had seemed almost clueless about his own work. I often noticed his hesitancy while answering my technical questions; he was never quite sure as to what something was supposed to look like… it never made sense to me. It was his building- he should have known it as he knew his own name.

That had made it difficult. I was nearly on my own with trying to make the beautiful creature come to life, and after many failed small scale models, I finally came up with the solution. Underneath the stage the floor was normally tiled, because there had to be sufficient space under there for trap doors and the like. So I built the building in a way that the whole of it was caved in slightly, creating bowl-like impression in the floor. The impression lined up exactly with the corner stone in the arch that held up the stage, and they were in the dead center of the building. In this way, everything else spanned out and was able to support itself. But the cornerstone was crucial to the survival of the building.

I heard Arthur's frenzied voice all the way from the inner foyer, near the grand staircase that led to the mezzanine sections. He seemed to be yelling directions left and right, not really knowing what he was saying. At one point I would have sworn I heard him tell someone to 'stear the clage…' poor guy… I supposed I had to be the one to efficiently 'clear the stage.'

I pushed opened the grand door to the theater, and they made an almighty squeak as they turned, alerting everyone to my presence. It was like a movie scene, and I was sure that the sun's rays were shining in from behind me to complete the affect. Everyone was staring at me as if I was the guardian angel… silence enveloped the room as Arthur ran down the center isle to reach me.

"Christine! Christine, thank G-d you came!"

I smiled slightly and followed him quickly down the isle to the center of the stage. I looked around; people and machines were attempting the keep things in place to avoid total collapse. The situation looked grim. And although I wouldn't say this to Arthur, I liked it. It was exciting; a challenge all for me, one that no one could take from me. This was my turn to prove myself… I wouldn't let anyone interfere…

I wasn't sure what had drawn out this particular response in me, but I suppose I felt that I needed to prove my worth to myself. After all, I was treading on dangerous territory; I was courting an angel. I really had no right to do so- no right to expect any sort of affection from such a beautiful person onto a pitiful and ugly creature such as myself. I felt so content when I was with him that I was ashamed of myself. Surely I had so many faults; so many deformities of the body and soul that I should never feel worthy of him. But he made me feel so comfortable, so complete. He made me feel _beautiful_… I had to prove to myself that I was worthy of him. I couldn't spend my life following him around like a subordinate mouse. That kind of relationship would suffocate me, and it would only end in inconvenience for him and heartbreak for me.

And it was not that I thought he would ever come to… _care_ for me in _that_ way. Indeed, the words were so sacred- so forbidden! - I could not form them in my mind. Rather, I knew that I felt emotions for him, even if my mind refused to identify them. I had to be near him, even if that meant only as a student, maybe even a distant friend. After all, hadn't I disposed of hope for love a long time ago? It was true, I would always dream for normalcy. I would always wish that I could be _someone, like everybody else._ I would want a nice, quiet house, with a husband and children inside, and perhaps a nice garden of roses lining the driveway… But I knew that they were lost dreams. And I couldn't delude myself enough into thinking that this man would change any of that. I was too fragile for that.

So instead I would be content to be near him. And to do that I had to prove myself. I had to save the sanctuary of music in order to be within his presence.

I met Arthur's eyes with quiet conviction. "Alright." I said, unwrapping the blueprints from their brown packaging. I unrolled the first ages and flipped through them until I found the one marked for the stage and the ceiling and arch fixations.

Arthur and I poured over the blueprints for an hour or two, trying to decide what to do. We traded ideas and proposals, some more plausible than others, but we always ended up back at the blueprints. There was something more that was missing. We knew the issue regarding the building's cave- in… but we needed information on the arch, information only to be found in the original designs for the room.

I had come up with the idea to have the building cave-in, and so I had redrawn the room and the lower level to accommodate for that. It was weird, I thought, as I flipped through the papers to find the original design, that Arthur had not redrawn my improvisations into the original design so that everything would be organized. In fact, the more I though back on the days when this plan had been decided upon, the more I remembered how unconnected he had seemed…

My fingers found the right paper and I drew it out of the pile. The handwriting looked vaguely familiar, but I had worked with him for many years on this project, it wasn't surprising that I would still remember his penmanship.

With the originals in hand, I saw the problem. I explained my ideas to Arthur but he seemed confused, and so instead I called over a few workers and attempted to elucidate it to them. Tracing my fingers over the prints, I explained to the workers now crowded around me how we needed to adjust everything to fit again. Arthur finally seemed to get it and began pitching in his own comments to the workers, speaking of little things that I had glossed over. The worker cloud slowly dissolved around me, each worker going to a different part of the room to complete his part of the job.

I sat back, surprised to find how exhausted I was. Arthur and I had spent almost three hours volleying possible solutions back and forth, and I had spent the better part of four hours tweaking our ideas to fit the original and then explaining it to the workers. I suppressed a yawn, clearing the table of all the scrap papers Arthur and I had filled with our ideas.

"Good work, Arthur," I said, smiling at him. I was proud of us both. "Good work."

"It was all you, Christine… I don't know what I would have done without you…" He sighed, wiping his forehead on his sleeve and collapsing in the chair next to me.

"You would have done fine." I reassured him. He snorted lightly, and then someone came up to him with a question, and he stood up to answer it. I stood also, and began to gather all of the blue prints back into a neat pile so I could re-roll them. I glanced up at the men working as I absently collected all of the papers. Then I lined them up precisely, feeling along the edges to make sure all of the lines were even. My hands fell on one side of the paper and I lightly curled up the sides, rolling them slowly to avoid any wrinkles. I loved this building… I didn't want any of its records to be destroyed.

The drone of Arthur's voice explaining the designs to the man faded and I blinked, stopped almost at the end of the paper, my eyes falling on the corner where the architect's signature was.

It all happened very fast. My mind tried to reconcile what I saw with reality, and Arthur took that moment to address me.

"Let's ask Ms. Daae…" My breathing got heavier… there _was_ no architect's signature… "Ms. Daae?" _There was no name…._ "Christine are you all right?" There was a yin-yang!

Drawn innocently, but proudly, on the bottom corner of the paper, in dark ink, was a yin-yang. No wonder I had recognized the handwriting… I was beginning to feel nauseous. My hands fell from the paper and I stepped back, staring at the yin-yang.

"Christine…?

"Excuse me—" The words forced themselves out of my mouth as I pushed away from the table, my legs running to the right. Arthur may have called after me, but I hardly heard. Air and blood were rushing past my ears, my mind working in hyper speed to try to put it all into English.

_The yin-yang… the angel… Mr. Destler… the Opera House?_

It didn't make any sense! And yet it did make sense! …I couldn't understand what was going on… I had the strongest urge to take my head in my hands and curl up in a corner… but my legs wouldn't let me. They were charging up the small wooden staircase at the side of the building… the one that led up to heaven…

I burst through the door of the music room and nearly fainted when I realized that I was pointing my accusing finger at nothing. I so strongly felt the absence of his presence that my knees gave out underneath me and I sank against the closed door behind me. I had felt so sure that he would be there, perched upon the music bench as he always was, maybe composing a new song. I had been so certain! Where else would he be but here and now, when I needed him? Where was he?

I stared dry-eyed at the empty piano and tried to make sense of everything.

He had built the Opera House. That much was now apparent. But where had be been the last five years? Why send Arthur in his place? Why come out of hiding now?

It made me shiver. He had clearly been closer to me than I had ever imagined. Had he been hovering above me the whole time, watching me in silence, from the shadows? But why? Who was I to him? I was insignificant!

It didn't make sense. I had to have clarity, I had to have reason. I couldn't let this go on any longer, this game of charades, this hide-and-seek. My mind could no longer take the metaphors and puns that seemed to characterize our relationship. I needed truth. I couldn't fall for an idea; I couldn't be attracted to a shadow. I needed to know who this man truly was.

I could no longer accept his façade as the angel of music, as… the phantom of the opera.

The white trailer was mocking me. Maybe it was because the last time I had been there was to witness my only angel locking lips with Nadir's sister-in-law. Or maybe it was because this whole business had finally turned my mind.

I knocked on the trailer door somewhat absentmindedly. I seemed to have forgotten that I had keys sitting in my left pocket.

Nadir opened the door for me. He seemed somewhat pleased to see me. I burst in and wildly looked around.

"Good morning Christine." An accented female voice. Not an angelic male voice.

I swear I was going to give myself heart failure. It was so hard to reconcile what I saw in the room with what I had expected. Carla smiled at me from _his_ chair. But where was _he_? Again I found myself leaning against the door. I closed my eyes, putting one hand on my chest to stop racing heart. _Where was he?_

"Christine…" Nadir appeared before me, and I look at him through my eyelashes. "Are you all right?"

"Nadir," my voice came at a sort of raspy half-whisper. I felt as if I would clutch the lapels of his jacket in my desperation. "Where is he?"

He blinked, and was about the answer when Carla sauntered in between us.

"Is that really any of your business, my dear?" She sneered. "You are business partners." She jabbed one manicured finger at me. "When one partner is doing other business," another jab, "the second partner stays out of the other," jab, "partner's," two jabs, "business!"

I simply blinked at her. _Why is she yelling at me?_ I felt a bit dazed, and I looked up at Nadir as if I hadn't understood a word she had spoken.

"Where is he, Nadir?" My voice sounded pitifully desperate.

Mr. Khan clutched my upper arm and nearly steered me out of the door and down the steps to the trailer. We walked briskly across half of the construction site before Nadir pulled me behind a rather large wall in a shady alley between the living room and what would soon be the dining room.

He sighed then, and released me.

"Ms. Daae…" He seemed uncomfortable, and when he didn't continue, I covered my face with my hands and tried to hold back a sob.

"Nadir, I must see him. Please tell me where he is."

The Iranian seemed to pale suddenly. "I can't tell you."

"Why?" I cried. "Nadir, please!"

He shook his head. "Christine… have you any idea where you are truly heading? He is not who you think he is…"

Tears began flowing from my eyelids. I denied his statement. _He didn't understand…_

"I have been watching the two of you," Nadir continued, "don't think that I have missed anything." His voice got gentler. "Christine, I only want to protect you. You don't know him…"

I stared at him.

"I know you were getting along nicely with that surfer… what is his name? Raoul." Nadir sighed. "I think it would be safer if you were to… forget this."

"I can't Nadir, I can't! You don't understand!" _Why was he telling me this? Abandoning my angel? Did he want to kill me?_

His eyes seemed to darken. "Forgive my bluntness, Christine, but I believe you are the one who doesn't understand. Think carefully. Why do you want to see him so badly?" He let out an almost inaudible sigh. "Is it because he has turned into something you hadn't suspected? Perhaps you discovered something surprising about him? Maybe things are starting to fall into the wrong puzzle? Do you want to see him to question him? What kind of answers do you expect? Has he ever unsuccessfully dodged your questions of his identity?"

My tears spilled over my eyelids and slid down my cheeks, but I was silent. I could not speak in the face of my deepest fears laid on the table, my most painful uncertainties revealed.

"You cannot trust him, Christine. He is so many layers of emotional blocks with the power to be both gentle and malicious; he would overwhelm you. You could never know what truly lies behind the _masks_, because he would never let you _see_, and when you did, you'd be sure to hide under the cover of _that mask_ for the rest of eternity, for then there is no escaping him."

I shook my head. Were we not talking about my angel? Why did Nadir make him sound like an ex-convict? Wasn't Nadir his friend?

"I don't understand what you are talking about…" I searched his unyielding eyes with mine. "Nadir- please! Even if he is all that you say, I still… I still…" _You still what? _ Nadir nearly challenged me to complete my sentence with a hard stare. I faltered, and dropped my gaze from him. "I have known him in a different way, Nadir, and I do trust him. He has been my true friend and I can't give him up."

Nadir sighed again, and turned away from me. "I suppose you wouldn't understand…. He always spoke of your innocence." Nadir blinked at the setting sun, and his words became more cryptic. "Naivety, I think he once ventured to say. _He_ understands. I daresay he _always_ understood his charge; the same way a knight understands his duty to a maiden. Always removed and remote, chivalry allows him to love her from afar without tainting her purity… the knight always wore his _mask._ Years of pain could never detach that knight from his lady; loyalty to a pure and true love leads him through hardships of political and social torture… when that knight returns he will sorely wish for his lady's face and sight of her sweet smile. But chivalry ends when the knight crosses the line, when he makes contact and desires to make that sweet smile _his._ With a besmirched soul he knows he cannot touch the lady and yet he yearns to; and the lady cannot help but reciprocate such strong feelings, even if she has no idea how these feelings came to be. A psychological phenomenon, I assume. But you can never force someone to love you. The knight understands this.

"If you ask him, Ms. Daae, he will not respond. He will resist you in every way he can. But if you are going to push him far enough, you've got to be certain." He turned suddenly and fixed me with an unreadable and uncharacteristically intense gaze. "That man has been my only and closest friend throughout years of political exile. I am indebted to him for life and I don't want to see him hurt." I began to protest that I could_ never_ hurt my angel, but he silenced me with a hand. "You may find my warnings to you distasteful and even unbelievable. But I do this for your safety, Ms. Daae, and for his survival. If you decide to pursue your current course I beg you to step with caution. Once you step over that line he will never let go of you. If you cannot commit to that, then you must stay away. The most dangerous thing a woman can do to such a man is to mend his heart and then just as quickly stop its beating; for then you have a cold-blooded man. A zombie with no heart could do less damage then a man with a crushed one… Choose wisely and carefully. A man only has so much willpower. If you can bear the weight of such _masks_, then I give you many blessings of strength. When he said you were the only one who could understand, he wasn't kidding."

The bright yellow orb of the sun half concealed beneath the horizon eclipsed Nadir's head. His skin seemed darker then usual, and his eyelashes were thick and black above the brilliant emerald of his eyes. I digested each of his words carefully, sorting in my mind those that fit with my angel and those that did not characterize him at all. In a sense I had created a garden and a dungeon in my mind; those thoughts I found pleasing were planted beside the rose bushes and hydrangeas. The warnings and cryptic messages I locked deep away.

And then suddenly my mind locked on several of the words he had said… _political exile… social torture…_

"Nadir-"

He looked at me sharply.

"Where in Iran did you meet him?"

He dropped his eyes from mine and his hands twitched by his side as he seemed to consider something.

"He once said to me," he finally said quietly, "that in those times when our path is darkest, shards of light tend to emerge from the end of our tunnel, right before we decide to close the tunnel forever. It was between this tunnel and path that I met him." And he would say no more.

But my mind had snatched on an idea.

"Are the two of you speaking Farsi?"

He refused to speak and instead he pulled me toward the trailer.

"When did he arrive in Iran?"

He tugged me up the stairs to the trailer.

He raised his hand to open the door, but there was no need.Carla had opened the door fully to face him when she heard his steps on the stairs. She threw the pair of us a particularly sour look and said something harshly in what I now considered to be Farsi. Then she brushed past us as if we were irritating flies.

For the third time that day, Nadir's paled. He turned to look at me slowly.

"Please tell me you'll heed my warnings, Christine."

I blinked. It wasn't that I thought he was lying; it was just that I couldn't, at that time, comprehend everything he had said to me. After all, what did knights and maidens have to do with the Opera House? And what was all of this about him resisting and breaking? The last time we had come to a situation of _that_ effect, _I_ had been the one unable to control myself; he had seemed quite composed.

But I nodded anyway, to give Nadir some peace of mind.

He sighed, and spoke as if he was selling his soul to the devil.

"He has just called. He says that you are to meet him in the music room at the Opera House…" Nadir stepped inside and handed me my purse before closing the door in front of me and reluctantly adding, "immediately."

I have to admit that I cheated a bit.

Just a little bit. But, after everything that had happened, didn't I have that right?

I drove slowly home from the site, and found that my mind was a tad clearer than it had been when I burst in on Nadir and Carla. I knew now, at least, where the Angel was. That meant I could take my time in meeting him there.

After my desperate flight to find him, I didn't know what was compelling me to stay away from the Opera House for any amount of time, but my hands were directing the steering wheel towards my home. I felt like whatever was going to happen in the Music Room would be of cataclysmic proportions. Either the angel would explain my life to me or he would simply disappear into Heaven to avoid all of these difficulties. Nadir had clearly explained that the angel wanted to avoid anything too close with me. That was fine. I had already resigned myself to a life of simply being his friend.

Hadn't I?

To tell the truth, it wasn't fine. It would never be fine, especially if Carla was always lurking in the background. But who was I to question such a situation? I should be happy just to be with him, shouldn't I? I had to take what was offered to me. The aching in my chest could be ignored.

Shadow barked at me as I unlocked the front door, and he followed me up the staircase, barking wildly.

"Calm down," I murmured. But I picked him up anyway, and planted a soft kiss on his furry forehead.

When I got into my room, Shadow jumped out of my arms and raced straight to the closet.

"Shadow," I sighed. "Haven't we been over this?" I transferred him onto my bed as I threw off my shirt and began searching through my drawers. A ridiculous urge to look my nicest had propelled me to the mirror. I had to try to convince him of my worth.

"What about this, Shadow?" No response. "Shadow?" I looked behind me to see the little dog panting beside the closet again.

"What is your obsession with this closet?" I asked, nearly angry. I buttoned up the soft cotton shirt I had donned. "Do you enjoy giving me pain?" A bark. I snorted. "Aren't you supposed to be my best friend?"

Shadow liked this idea, and he wagged his tail and pushed his nose against the closet door.

"Fine!" I mumbled angrily. "Fine! You can live in this closet for all I care!" I threw the door open and the violin case fell to my feet.

My breath left in a whoosh and I tried not to feel anything. Why was it still so hard to see these things? I desperately pushed down the aching sadness in my chest. Shadow, at least, was happy, barking up and down inside of the small closet. I heard the tearing of paper and my senses lurched.

Any paper inside this closet had to be a manuscript.

"No!" I gripped Shadow strongly and pulled him away from the pile of paper he had settled on. He barked once and ran away from me. But I was hardly paying attention.

My fingers brushed against the curling pages of my past, music nearly ten years old. Shadow's paw had made a puncture in the middle of the title of the first page, and I caressed the words gently as a soft, grieving laugh escaped me. How ironic that I should find this music now.

My Funny Valentine stared back at me, as unfunny and tragic as it had always been. My Funny Valentine, written by the Angel of Music, by Erik, my fantasy savior.

"Well, Erik," I sighed as I folded the manuscript into my bag. Shadow followed me out the door and down the stairs to the foyer. "I think you are about to meet your match."

It was time to discover the secret of the elusive and apparently multi- faceted Angel of Music.

I felt like I had live a thousand years in the last few hours. Could today really been the same day that I had walked into this Opera House, trying to save it from collapse? The sounds of the workers still trying to fix the arch were the only clue. I felt sort of numb at the moment, the way you might feel before a confrontation with a parent of a teacher. I was saving my energy.

The stairs seemed to take such a long time tonight, as if they wanted me to take a good look at them. Stairs were such an odd invention. Maybe the inventor had wanted to teach his children a lesson about reaching for the sky. It took work.

Then again, maybe I was loosing my mind, musing about all of this useless philosophy. This might be the last time I'd ever have to climb this staircase. That ought to be slightly more important, right?

But I couldn't convince myself to feel anything. I just kept climbing. _How far is heaven? I just gotta know…_ I think I knew how the Los Lonely Boys felt.

The door now, seemed so many miles away. Like it was already planted in my memory. My feet refused to go any further.

_Let's be reasonable, please._ I mean, he wouldn't really leave me. He couldn't do that to me. He obviously didn't want to hurt me. He said that everything was for me. There was no reason to be scared to enter that door. Right?

I silenced myself. Whatever he was going to do, I would have to accept. There was no me without him. My destiny was behind that door.

I pushed it open with conviction.

And all of my strength left me.

Why did he have to be so _beautiful_? I felt like an ant. He smiled at me, and I felt my chest break like a waterfall. I cringed when I realized that tears were streaming down my face.

"Christine, my dear, why are you crying?" He was in front of me in an instant, his hand hovering above my cheek, shadowing the tracks of my tears.

"Angel," I murmured. And I remembered our last encounter in this room. How wide with sincerity his eyes had been, and how sweet I had felt in his embrace. I looked at him now, searching for my angel, but his eyes were blank pools of gold, and his face was solidly beautiful. Cruelly so. I sighed, and made my way past him to sit by the piano. My old, faithful friend.

"Why have you brought me here?" I asked quietly.

I felt his presence beside me as he slid carefully onto the bench. He spread his fingers across the keys, and I heard the silent melodies creep out of the ivory.

"We have come full circle, my dear."

"I wish you wouldn't speak so cryptically." I was finally, emotionally exhausted. I had prepared for a battle and now found that I wouldn't be able to deal with it. I felt so tired. I just wanted answers. I just wanted him.

"I know."

"How do you know?"

"Excuse me?"

"You must know what I mean… how did you know I was looking for you? How did you know to be here, at this very moment?" _Who are you?_

He sighed, and then tilted his head to face me. His eyes studied my face intently. "I was always here. I was here when Arthur called you. I… I was here when you came in, as well."

My face stretched in shock. "You saw me in here, and you didn't say anything?" I felt like crying again.

"I'm sorry, Christine, I-"

I jumped up from my seat. "You're always sorry aren't you? Maybe you should just stop hurting me and then you wouldn't always be sorry!"

He blanched visibly. "Christine, I never meant to hurt you…" his voice was strained, and the knowledge that I had hurt him brought more tears.

"How could you have watched me break down like that and not said a word?" I demanded.

He shook his head. "You weren't ready. _I _wasn't ready."

"Ready for what?"

He stood, and his eyes bore into mine, locking me in place. He caressed my hand gently, very briefly, and then dropped it.

"We weren't ready for the truth, Christine, but now, it seems that truth has a mind of her own."

Truth. Aha. That was what I had been looking for.

"You built the Opera House."

He nodded, and in a melancholy manner resumed his seat by the piano. I began to pace. I wanted answers! If he even thought of playing one of his infernal tunes and distracting me I might explode!

"Why didn't you say anything? Why Arthur? Why me?"

He was silent.

"Answer me!" I commanded, but my voice sounded thin and weak in the good acoustics of the room. "You _have _been watching me, haven't you? That's how you know so much about me…" I started to shiver. "My G-d, have you been stalking me?" I took a huge step backward, nearly tripping over myself. Real fear began to enter my frame. "Who are you? What do you want with me?"

"Don't be ridiculous," he snapped, glaring at me from the piano. "If I had wanted to kidnap you Christine, trust me that I have sufficient skill and impetus to have done it already."

"Then why! Why the secrecy and the lies!"

He shook his head. "I wasn't ready."

"What do you mean?" I cried, furiously flinging away tears. "Sometimes you make me so angry!"

He sighed, and his fingers moved to produce a calming, sweet tune on the piano.

"No!" I lunged forward, trying to pull him away from the instrument. "I don't want to hear your music! I don't want your music!"

A shudder attacked his entire body and he whirled to face me, his hands now gripping me tightly.

"Don't _lie_ to me Christine. Where would you have been without my music? _I am the music_!"

My skin turned over in Goosebumps and a wild, half- formed idea slithered into the back of my head.

"Then I don't need you." I hissed, breaking out of his iron hold. Impossible, I told my self, shutting my thoughts away. Impossible.

He was nearly shaking with anger now, and his voice burned like hot wax.

"You'll always need me, Christine. I've been watching you for your entire life. I know you. I've shielded you and protected you and you cannot live without me. You belong to me."

I slapped him across his beautiful, silky cheek and he stumbled away from me, his hand clasped to his face and his eyes wide with shock.

"I don't need anyone!" I spat. I ran to my bag and pulled the precious music from in between my phone and my wallet. I nearly threw the papers onto the stand, not bothering to fix them up. I knew the music by heart, anyway.

"The only person I need is Erik, and he is here, inside the music!"

I plunged into the song, glaring at him. But his eyes left mine. He stared at the manuscript unblinkingly, his figure turned rigid. His hand fell away from his face as I entered the first verse and I faltered when I noticed an alarmingly large gash on the side of his face, where sideburns would have been. I shivered with sudden regret and all of my anger left me.

"Oh, my angel. I've hurt you. I'm sorry."

He shook his head very slowly, still staring fixedly at the music. The scratch looked long, thin, and red, just like I had sliced him with my nails.

"Christine." His voice was husky. "Keep playing."

I was confused. But he stepped a little bit closer, staring at the music.

"_Keep playing_."

I couldn't ignore a command from my angel.

So I played on, and I followed the hand scripted notes with precision. I neared the beginning of the second verse and I began to feel strange anticipation. I had never actually finished playing the song using the original manuscript. The first time I had seen it, the music had made me cry by the first verse. My father had subsequently made several copies of the song so that I could practice with it. I never saw the original again until I stuffed it in my suitcase and boarded a plane for California. The first time I would ever finish it would be here, with my angel.

I neared the bottom of the first page and lifted my hand to turn the edge away and reveal the second page. But my hands locked in their position.

_No._

My heartbeat was loud in my own ears, and I felt suddenly dizzy. Suddenly nauseous. My breath was ragged.

_No. Impossible._

That little half – formed thought slammed into my head like a baseball.

The only composer who signed every page of his original work was the angel of music. And the angel of music signed his name with a yin-yang.

I turned, frightened, shivering, my eyes impossibly wide. One lone tear fell down my cheek.

I tried to keep my voice from seeming accusatory.

"Erik!"


	13. Chapter 13

**My savvy fellow readers, you are so kind to me! You warm my heart with your generous reviews.**

**I'm sorry about this one taking so long. I totally revamped this chapter. I wrote 11 pages and really hated them and spent a few months brooding over them… and then I deleted them and rewrote them. Its funny how different the story would have ended up if I had used the first draft… this chapter is rather important!**

**Doubtless there are many reviews from last year that I never got around to answering, and for that, I am very sorry, but I don't feel I have space to answer them all.**

**However, I was planning on adding some non- Opera music, for those of you who were curious.**

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**Jamie: Yes. I believe we've discussed this already. But feel free to leave more reviews. :)**

**HeatherGreySweater: Ahh, thank you so much. I have no really good excuses except writer's block and a whole lot of stuff that I couldn't get rid of. I'm just really happy to be writing again, and I hope I can meet your expectations with this story! :)**

**Terbear: I hope so too, I really want to keep you guys happy, you're so faithful! Thanks so much and I hope you enjoy the story. Hee hee, I hope I can keep you in suspense!**

**Susan B. : Thank you! I did try so hard to make my characters (Erik especially- he was a difficult one) true to the original Leroux personas. I realize that Erik came out rather un Leroux-ish though. I wanted them to be true, real, and personal to every reader. I'm glad you enjoyed it so much, and I hope my future chapters can deliver as well! Happy reading! :)**

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**(11/1/08 I EDITED THIS CHAPTER- ORIGINALLY POSTED 10/26-I'M TERRIBLY SORRY ABOUT THIS)**

**Okay. Whew. I'm excited. I'm pumped. I'm going to finish and update this chapter soon! Good. So.**

**Just one more thing. **

**This italicized part won't make complete sense to you yet, but against my better judgment I'm throwing it in there anyway. Remember it though. Like all of the italicized blurbs, this one is darkly significant.**

… **how many of you actually read Author notes at the beginning of the chapter? If any of you have read this, put the words 'ani vata' in your review (if you review, that is, and you remember this.) Do you think it would be better if I put this stuff in the post- chapter author's note? Maybe I just talk too much. **

**And now, without further blabbing by the authoress, I present Chapter Thirteen.**

_The girl was tired. Lately she always felt like this, like she was pushing herself too hard. She hardly got any rest. It was just more, more, more; always running. If she ran far away enough from herself, maybe she could finally face reality._

_Now she caught herself sighing, something that she promised herself she wouldn't do anymore. So much for promises. She snorted at her reflection. She had also resolved to ignore _them_ today, but that hadn't worked out so well either, had it?_

_Then, suddenly, she felt the tears on her cheeks, and the heaviness in her throat and chest. Hadn't she finished with crying yet?_

_Her desperate sobs filled her bedroom and they scourged her ears like icy wind. She was so _sick _of crying! So utterly sick of being weak. But what could she do? Her chest felt swollen and empty. She was alone, truly and completely. _

_So fine, she told herself. So fine. She could go it alone, couldn't she? She was stronger than this! Stronger than him!_

_The word finally gave the girl resolve enough to push up from her vanity desk. The thought of him blazed through her memory like fire, and the revulsion it sent through her nearly eclipsed the echoing pain. Nearly._

_She hated him! _

_And this thought allowed her to go through the thoughtless tasks of preparing for bed, the senselessness of beginning a new day, when there was not a soul in the world that cared, except for her father. _

_Her shadow followed her as she haphazardly threw her pajamas over her head. It was a very well conducted shadow, and hardly made any noise. As the girl sat down to brush out her long silky hair, the shadow yearned to run its fingers through it. Her eyes avoided her reflection in the mirror, but her shadow gazed upon it with awe. Her shadow traced every feature, every freckle and every wrinkle of her face until she dropped the brush on the vanity and made her way to turn off the lights in her room._

_Darkness enveloped them, and her shadow didn't dare make a move any closer to her. Being alone with her was enough. The shadow felt the intimacy of the moment, the tranquility of being alone _together_. It was enough to frighten him into drawing back into the real shadows, and recognize that as a man, he had no right to invade her privacy. _

_He ached with the same sort of longing emptiness that he had heard in her cries, and yet his pain was so much more palpable. Because her pain was his pain. And she was so _close_, and yet so unattainable. He could brush his fingers across her cheek and she would never know his touch from a grace of the wind. It would have been so simple… but it would have been falsehood. If there was anything he needed with her, it was truth. And the very simple truth was that he would never feel about someone the way he felt about her. _

_The man listened closely for the evening out of her breath, and knew precisely when she had given way to dreams. Then he stalked quietly out of the shadows, towards where her bed lay in the corner of the small room. And he knelt beside her as she slept, her soft breathing the only audible sound in the room._

_But he was crying, heaving silent sobs as the papers weighed heavily in his palm. He knew what was expected of him, and yet it hurt him so much to do it, to even think it. It was impossible. No one could take away this castle of dreams. Here was untouchable. Here was love._

_He _couldn't_ do it. He wouldn't. That was the end of it; how could he make another decision? It would be another falsehood to go through with it! _

_But yet he _ached_- he ached for her to be beside him. She was perfection. She was his heart. This fragile, untouched moment was very nearly the best he had ever experienced in his life. She was so peaceful right now, not like the dead creature she dragged around on her feet these days. She was vibrant now, alive. Sleeping, yes, but still close. It made him feel warm, like he was hugging her._

_Sir had often asked him about a particular aspect of his life, and he had never felt any inclination to answer. Because he knew that he could never explain to Sir the strange phenomenon of Sir's daughter, and the way that only her presence could evoke such feelings inside of him. Such feelings that a monster was never supposed to feel._

_It was here, by her bedside, that he dutifully offered praise to the Almighty One. It was only there that he could feel truly thankful for everything he had been given._

The tones of my voice lingered and died slowly. The angel- no, Erik! my G-d, what an amazing thing to be able to say that name! How tremendous to voice that name and have it refer to a real person, real flesh and blood that I could touch. To say it connected me to my father, to those pleasant fifteen years I had spent in Paradise. To say it was redemption; it was, as the angel- no, Erik! had said, coming full circle.

I wanted to hear his voice. I wanted this miracle to speak to me with his angel's voice and complete the dream. But he was silent.

It was an uncomfortable silence. I was still halfway rotated on the piano bench watching him, my fingers on the keys for the next chord. His entire frame was blocking me out. I could see that there was emotion in his eyes, but he had closed me off. I was, to be truthful, a bit confused. He hadn't moved since I had addressed him. In the past, hadn't he been the one insisting that I knew his identity? Upset, even, that I wouldn't identify him? And now he was so rigid, it looked painful.

I was frightened to speak again, to ruin this wonderful dream. My father's last promise to me had finally come true! Erik had always been the protector, the overseer and the knight in shining armor. How ironic that Nadir had chosen that particular metaphor! Erik was the one who was supposed to understand. My father had loved me, and if he had left me in Erik's care then he must have trusted Erik implicitly. I wanted to make my father proud by uniting with his favorite charge, his named Angel of Music. And the older I grew, especially in my late teens, I had longed for this Erik. I felt so alone. I yearned for this understanding man… the one I had always dreamed of marrying, with my father there, dancing at my wedding…

Ah! but he was moving! My heart began to pound heavier and slower as he inched purposefully towards me. I pulled myself out of my memories and fixated directly on his progress. He was so beautiful…

He sat down on the piano bench next to me and the whole right side of my body exploded in pins and needles. My face was burning.

But he didn't look at me. I gave him room and he spread his hands across the keys. His left forearm brushed against my shoulder, but I remained very, very still, and he didn't seem to mind. Instead, he began to play.

"In a small cafe, on a crowded night, in a spot of light stands the singer…" He sang quietly, almost at the level and tone of a speaking voice and I felt so privileged, at that moment, to be with him and to know him. I was hearing the Angel of Music. I was hearing Erik.  
"And the band begins and the beat is strong and the room belongs to the singer…" He was singing slowly. His eyes were on the keys, but I knew he wasn't really seeing them. I doubted he was seeing anything. His muscles were clenched and I sensed he was shielding me from some very strong emotion.

His voice swelled but increased in intensity and not volume, if that was possible.

"All the people turn to hear the sad refrain and catch the cry of pain that's in his song…  
But in his haunted face and in his searching eyes there's sign that something's wrong…" He gave me a fleeting look and my throat began to close. One of us was hurting… one of us was breaking. I couldn't tell if it was him or me.

He turned his head away from me and closed his eyes.

"Now the eager crowd hangs on every word, but the sounds are slurred by the singer… Till the people feel every aching part of the broken heart of the singer…"

There were tears, but they could have belonged to either of us. To both of us.

"Still the song goes on about a love he knew that seemed so sure and true but turned out wrong… and from the tears he shows, nobody really knows, is he the singer or the song? Is he the singer or the song?"

"Angel- Erik-"

"As the sad song ends he hits the final note; it catches in his throat but comes out strong. And as he bows and goes nobody really knows, was he the singer or the song? Was he the singer or the song?"

His tones, too, died within the room, and the only sounds left were my quiet sobs. I tried to stifle them and my throat protested and I hiccupped and coughed amongst my tears. Erik turned suddenly and enveloped me into his arms.

"Don't cry, my sweetest, don't cry."

My tears kept coming, and my chest kept heaving. I was warm within his embrace, and my hands fell across his chest, where I could feel his heart beating. I pressed my face into his shirt. His song had depressed me utterly, although I didn't know why. I had slipped into the mire. I had given into hopelessness, pushed over the edge by the thought of him with a broken heart. It was a gnawing, horrible feeling. I wanted to cry it out.

"Christine… my dear, my dear songbird, my only one…"

"Erik-" I couldn't stop sobbing! "Erik-"

"Yes, Christine. I'm here." He adjusted his arms to pull me closer. He settled his head on my shoulder, across my curls, and began to whisper me to me, stroking my back lightly. I couldn't hear what he was saying but his closeness eventually comforted me. When my sobs finally subsided, he continued to hold me, and I began to feel light again. He was pulling me out of my quicksand just by holding me to him. In that silence I felt as if there were no safer nor better place for me than in his presence and his embrace. And I knew that I was in love with him.

His whispers tickled my ears and I finally identified it as French.

I pulled away from him and looked into his eyes.

"I didn't know you spoke French," I said. Perhaps it wasn't the wisest thing to say, but I was not the most focused person at that moment.

His eyes softened and I felt so content, falling into his eyes.

"I was born in France," he answered quietly, stroking the curve of my hair. His eyes followed his hand as he brought it to gently caress my cheek. "I moved to America when I was very young, because my mother was sick. It was around then that I met your father…" The rhythmic movement of his hand and the soft, rich quality of his voice were threatening to put me to sleep. I was so exhausted. It had been an inordinately long day. Despite the fact that my world had just turned upside down, I still had to live in reality, and I probably had to go to work the next day.

"Erik-" His eyes shifted to mine and I nearly felt faint. To say that name! I let my head fall onto his right shoulder. It was very comfortable. I liked the texture of his shirt.

He continued to touch me, very lightly, now down and across my left arm.

"You are _the_ Erik."

"Yes." I could hear his smile. "I suppose you could call me that."

"The Erik my father spoke about."

"Yes."

"He said you would understand." I didn't want to mention my deformity outright. I hoped

he would catch the allusion.

Erik was silent for several seconds. "I had hoped that _you_ would understand."

"What do you mean?" I lifted my head to look at him again.

He shrugged. He dropped his hand from my arm and I nearly had to bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from grabbing his hand back.

"Why should we skirt around the issue?" He asked.

I swallowed. My fear had returned, destroying that wonderful peace I had felt within his arms.

"I don't understand," I said, my voice low. What would he tell me? That he knew about my deformity and he couldn't deal with it? Would he hope I would understand _that_?

I knew I wouldn't be able to take such a rejection. Not now, not when I had finally, _finally_ allowed myself to love again.

Erik sighed and turned away from me completely. He let his hands rest on the edge of the keys.

"Don't be silly, Christine." His voice was low and heavy with emotion. I was surprised when he dropped his head onto his outstretched arms. Why was he suddenly upset? Why did he look so… guilty? "It has not been so long, has it?"

"No…" I, too, turned away from him. I began to feel cold, almost numb. I should have known this was coming. No, the fire hadn't been long ago at all.

He was silent, and anger began to well up inside of me. Why had he waited all this time to tell me; why had he taken so many measures to make me fall in love with him… if only to draw the line at friendship, because he knew of my deformity? How was that fair?

"Erik…" I sighed. "Why didn't you just tell me?"

His head snapped up to find my eyes, and I only got a glimpse of the off appearance of his face- for he was visibly crying but his skin remained pale and serene- before he locked me in place with a stare.

"And how would you have reacted, Christine, when I just waltzed back into your life? Would you not have hated me? No, it was better this way, better that I should have stayed far away, better that you did not know me. Then I was sure you would not leave me…"

"Erik, I couldn't leave you-" I was no longer sure we were talking about the same thing.

He ignored me, and his eyes turned almost violent with long suppressed emotion as his voice intensified with his rant. "Yes! Better I should have stayed away! Then you could have pretended. Oh, Christine, forget what you have heard and pretend! Close your eyes, my dear, close your eyes for your eyes will only tell the truth and the truth isn't what you want to see! In the dark it is easy to pretend…"

I shivered at the weariness that entered his voice as he trailed off.

"If you would have returned to me, Erik, and told me the truth, I would have welcomed you, as I do know, because you knew my father and loved him, as I did."

This time his voice was very quiet, like a panther ready to strike. I felt that he was angry, but I couldn't understand why.

"Are you telling me," he whispered, "that you have no reason to fear me? None at all?" He searched my eyes for my reaction. "Are you saying that you don't hate Erik for what he has done to you?"

I blinked, now a little confused and a little frightened.

"Why would I hate you, Erik?" I stuttered a little. "As far as I know, you have given me no reason to dislike you… have you?"

He stared at me. It startled me into more speech.

"I mean, you've given me so much- you've given me everything! I- I'd be crazy to hate you… right? I mean… my father told me about you, so… right?" I abruptly cut off my meaningless drivel.

In a very deliberate movement, Erik lifted a hand and brought it very close to my shoulder. His eyes watched mine for any indications of rejection.

"You are telling the truth." The words didn't fit his tone; he sounded defeated. "You really don't know."

"Don't know about what?" I asked halfheartedly. Again with the mysteries? Why was everything with him so complicated? I was beginning to tire again.

He shook his head. "You don't know." He repeated.

"You could tell me," I suggested, only half jokingly. It would have been so nice to eliminate all blocks between us.

"I can't." He turned to me slowly, an incredulous look in his beautiful eyes. "I can't tell you."

"You can." I said emphatically. "Erik, this is the only way! We can heal together, we can grow! But only if everything is out in the open."

"No." His voice grew stronger, and with it, tears began to well in his eyes. "No! You don't know and I can't tell you!" Erik met my eyes and his desperation infected me. I felt my own tears begin to spill.

"I don't understand! Just tell me Erik, and I promise I'll forgive you!"

"I can't tell you. I can't! I can't! Erik is selfish and he cannot tell you because you would hate him and would run away from him… Erik cannot allow that… Christine… forgive me…"

My heart rate began to pick up. I was sure I had never heard him talk in the third person. And he sounded so vulnerable… Nadir's words began to flow through my mind. Had I finally pushed Erik off of the edge?

"I'll never run away from you, Erik." I said, because I could think of nothing else in the face of this big something that he refused to explain.

He latched onto my words like a starving man takes bread. "Do you promise me, Christine?" He whispered.

I looked into his eyes, and I was made to remember just how beautiful he was. I was made to remember how I felt just sitting next to him and losing myself within him. His face was so perfectly textured, like a marble statue. He radiated warmth, and my eyes traveled across the planes of his face and the golden oceans of his eyes. I was made to remember that I loved him. I took his hand into mine and felt that sensation- that began in the pit of my stomach and traveled down the length of arm into my fingertips- and I knew that I could have no other answer to his question, if I were to survive.

"I promise you, Erik."

He smiled and it was like sunlight. I felt like I was being rewarded for giving the right answer.

His face took on an almost boyish appearance as he took my other hand in his own and faced me across the piano bench. He had become exited about something, and his eyes were glittering, alive.

"Christine, I will take care of you. And you will be the happiest of women. Because you promised me!"

It was difficult for me to speak, because his eyes were suddenly so bright. He held me closer.

"We will sing, sing until we swoon away with delight! Yes, together… together, as you have promised me. We can do whatever you like; whatever you desire will be yours! Yes, Christine… you promised me!"

I loved the feeling of being within his arms so that I didn't give another thought to his words. In an unclouded state of mind I might have picked up his stress on my promise. And perhaps I would have given it more thought. I didn't know then what the consequences of that promise would be. I would pay dearly for such blindness.

But that is far into the future.

"Christine…" he whispered. "Your name is a treasure…"

"Erik…" I pulled away from him at the same time that he pulled me closer, and I ended up with my forehead pressed against his, staring into his deep, stunning eyes.

I felt our connection strengthen, like he had tied a chord around my heart. I closed my eyes. His gaze was too intense for all of the emotional turmoil inside of me.

"Erik," I tightened my grip on his shoulders. My love was swelling into an incontrollable storm. I needed to hear his voice again to control it, or perhaps- to release it.

"_Mon ange_," he whispered, "_Mon ange de la'musique… Je vous aime…. Je vous aime_…"

I didn't understand any of what he said, but it sounded so lovely in his angel's voice. I wished I had paid more attention in French class in high school... I had forgotten everything. I laced my arms around him and breathed deeply. I was at peace! It was such an amazing thing to even think about. I never wanted to leave him…

"Erik," I looked up at him suddenly, a smile breaking its way across my face. He smiled too, watching me. I gave a short, uncharacteristic giggle. "Where do you live?"

He blinked. "There is a small apartment on Santa Fe St. and 3rd Avenue."

"You're right by Forest Hill Park!"

"Yes, do you know the area?"

"Of course I do! Oh, Erik, can we go?"

"What- now?"

"Yes! Yes, I want to see where you live."

He was silent for a moment.

"Is there a problem?" I asked softly.

He met my gaze intensely. He was searching for something in my eyes, and I don't know if he ever found it.

"If this is your wish…"

"I'd like to go to the park with you. It would be sweet." I tried to smile my prettiest smile. I wasn't completely adept at the art of persuasion and I hadn't had much practice in the last few years. At least I didn't do something as inane as batting my eyelashes…

Erik considered it for a moment and then made a proposition.

"If you continue to come to your music lessons and I see that you are properly devoted, then I will obey your every command."

"Do you think I have been improving any?" I asked shyly.

"Of course! Christine, under my tutelage you have blossomed and shone… soon you will be ready to take the stage."

I felt like an anvil had been dropped in my stomach.

"Stage?" My voice was low and surprised. "What do you mean?"

He smiled softly at me and stroked his thumb over my fingers. I didn't think it was fair… it didn't help me concentrate on his words at all.

"Surely you did not think this was all in vain. Christine, you belong to the stage. You were meant to be Margarita, to be Carmen and Juliet. No one else can do it like you can. Just imagine! There is Carmel, and then there is New York! And then London and Paris… the possibilities are endless."

He sounded so excited, but the longer he spoke the more depressed and confused I became. I shook my head slowly and his eyes caught the movement. His fingers ceased their ministrations and I felt that I had somehow angered him.

"Erik, I can't perform on a stage-"

"You will, Christine. It is in your blood."

"No. No, I can't. You know I can't, Erik."

He narrowed his eyes and dropped my hand. I felt a fear work its way up my skin.

"What do you mean by this?"

I couldn't meet his gaze anymore. Would he make me say it? Surely he must know! My deformity would keep me from any stage in the world… the part of the body most exposed by the women of the stage was restricted for me… all new wardrobes, and never mind the initial explanations! No company, no matter how good Erik might think I was, would take such trouble over another, normal singer. I sighed. Normal…

I tried to make something up.

"I have work. I have a life here. I have to think about my company, and Meg, and Shadow…" Raoul. The word suddenly pulsed at my brain. Had I really forgotten? Raoul! Did he deserve this? I had effectively cheated on my boyfriend. On the dearest, sweetest man I'd ever met…

Erik seemed to have heard it, too. "You say that you would abandon music for that? For a life you don't live and friends you don't acknowledge?"

"That's unfair, Erik-"

"Is it? Tell me music hasn't awoken your soul. Tell me I haven't given you more than that boy ever could!"

Silence embraced us and I pulled away from him slowly. I wanted to keep Raoul out of this. I was frightened by the undeniably virulent tone in Erik's voice.

"It's different, Erik," I explained softly. I couldn't meet his eyes. "You live with music. Raoul lives with his sport. Both of you are passionate in your own way. Raoul can give me only what he knows, the same way you can give me only what you know…"

"But by your own definition- you too live with music. You are music, are you not? What can he teach you? What does he offer?"

"Opposites attract, right?" I tried to smile. Then I shrugged. "What does it matter, Erik? This is not about him."

"But it is! You give your heart to him-" He broke off suddenly and stared at the ground by my feet. I did not know what to say. I knew by now that I didn't love Raoul. Or at least, not as much as I loved Erik. But I wasn't ready to admit it to him; I had hardly admitted it to myself.

Erik, that one, mysterious figure… he turned to me at this and looked into my eyes. His touch, soft as ever, graced my arms. I could see swirls and oceans and storms in his eyes. My face, my body- everything was tingling. I wanted to reach out and brush back a lock of his dark hair.

"No more talk of this." He whispered finally. He was leaning closer, and I could smell the freshly laundered scent of his shirt. He looked at me pointedly.

"You will perform. You will sing for me and the angels will weep… no emperor will have received a fairer gift than your voice…"

I nodded foggily, registering only the beauty of his voice and the heat of his breath on my cheeks.

"Oh, my dearest one." He pulled me into a hug and I tightened my grip around him.

"Sing something for me," I pleaded.

He conceded, and I only remember the rapture that I felt before I fell asleep.

* * *

The next sensation I recall is that of Meg whispering in my ear, and (was that Shadow?) a small fur ball curled up beside me. I awoke slowly. The room was dark, and I recognized the fabric of my comforter. Erik must have taken me home again. I glanced to my side and I saw two things that startled me.

My alarm clock read 3:30am. Why was I up at such an hour? And beside the clock- a single red rose, tied with a black ribbon. I smiled and picked it up. It smelled heavenly, like an Angel… an Angel of Music… My eyes fluttered closed again and I saw him standing before me…

The velvet petal jostled against my lips and I jerked awake again. Meg flipped on my lamp and I squinted and teared against the brightness that enveloped the room. She frowned at me and removed the rose from my face.

"What's the deal, Christine?"

I blinked, incredulous.

"Meg," I protested. I cleared sleep from my throat. "It's three in the morning. Can't we-"

"No. No, you can't put this off any longer. I want answers."

I sat up and really look at her. She looked tired and confused, but mostly upset. I sighed.

"He brought me back again, right?"

"Yeah. Who is he?"

I hesitated. "Sit," I said, patting the space beside me. I moved Shadow's sleeping form to my other side. Meg gave me a leveling glare before pulling a chair out from under my desk.

"Who is he?" She repeated.

I dropped my gaze from hers. I knew I had done wrong to Raoul… I knew I was guilty… but I didn't want to discuss it with anyone. What had happened between Erik and I was so special, so private, and ultimately so bound up with our past together that I could not sufficiently explain it to anyone else. I didn't want this to be reduced to some cheap affair, either. I had never wanted to cheat on Raoul… my life was not a soap opera. Raoul was like the straw that broke the camel's back. I couldn't even begin to think about him, except for my firm resolution to end my relationship with him. Of course, in that decision, there was remorse. I really had felt something for him… but I had made a choice. The minute I pressed my soul to Erik's, I knew that I had fallen off the other side of the cliff. Raoul was too kind to be deceived in this way.

"An angel," I answered. This was a mistake. She groaned angrily and hit her fist against the backboard of the chair.

"Christine, I want the truth! Do I look like a fool to you? What the heck is going on with you?"

"Meg, please-"

"Please what! Please keep secrets from my boyfriend while I cavort with some other guy? Please keep my office while I run off to sing at the Opera House?"

"Meg-"

"What! Stop sighing like you aren't guilty. If you don't want me to give a detailed explanation of everything you've been doing lately to your boyfriend –that's right, Raoul, remember him?- then I suggest that you start talking!"

I shook my head. "You don't understand. It wasn't like that…"

"You cheated on him! Admit it!"

Tears began to lodge in my eyes. I had really cared about Raoul… but he just wasn't Erik. Was I really guilty for not being able to control my own heart?

"I love him, Meg." I whispered. A tiny rivulet trickled down my face. I didn't bother to flick it aside.

She stared at me. "Who? Raoul?" She snorted even as I began to shake my head again. "You certainly have an interesting way of showing it-"

"No," I said mournfully. "No… him. I'm in love with him. Erik."

Meg blinked at me.

"Erik," she said slowly, "that's that guy? The one who brought you home?"

I nodded.

She leaned back in the chair and stared at the ceiling.

"I never figured you for this kind of person, Chrissy." Her use of my nickname signaled the evaporation of her anger, and I felt slightly relieved. "I never thought you'd actually cheat on someone, with all of your talk about love and loyalty and whatnot…"

"I'm not that kind of person. Really, I do believe in all those things… I didn't really cheat on him. I mean, I didn't kiss Erik or do anything more than that…"

A slight, sad smile formed on Meg's upturned face.

"Are you trying to convince me or you?"

I was silent.

"Christine, you are going to break someone's heart."

These words startled me for a moment. I looked up at her, finally irritated. I knew that already- hadn't I been agonizing over how to break it to Raoul? I didn't need anyone reminding me of how badly I had messed things up! I wanted some compassion now…

"Chrissy, maybe you didn't kiss him, but you are dating one man and in love with another. Tell me how that's loyal."

I felt more tears, and I sighed angrily. I wanted to be done with crying forever!

"I don't know Meg, maybe I'm just a terrible person. I didn't mean to betray him-"

"Most people don't mean to cheat."

"I'm just trying to say that I was innocent. I didn't plan this all out and decide to break Raoul's heart. I thought I loved him… but Erik got there first."

Meg frowned. "Christine, you are going to tell me everything. You are going to explain to me why you cheated on your boyfriend."

I didn't even bother arguing the accusation. "I wouldn't even know where to start."

Meg wasn't taking no for an answer.

"Start with this other guy."

I sighed. I didn't try to protest. She had known for weeks about Erik, had probably seen all the signs…

"_My father once spoke of an angel… I used to dream he'd appear_…" I recounted the entire story.

"So what are you going to do now?" She asked.

I let out an orphaned sob. "How can I know, Meg? What is there to do? I can't leave him, I can't be without him-"

"Raoul loves you," she argued. "Raoul is a great guy."

I closed my eyes. My pain was rising. "I know he is. He's fantastic." I shook my head. "But he's not for me… you don't understand, Meg. I can't be without Erik. I need him."

"You don't need anyone." She countered. "I understand perfectly. I've been in love before. And let me tell you something about love, Christine- you don't just fall in love with someone. It's not so completely random. You chose to fall in love with him. You chose to take that first step."

I sighed. "So what should I do?"

"Tell Raoul."

The very thought scared me. I couldn't bear to see tears in his eyes; in his kind, generous eyes…"I don't want to hurt him more than necessary, Meg. And I didn't really cheat-"

"Yes you did. Would you please just admit it? You know that Eli cheated on me and that I found out about it from a second hand source. Don't you remember how terrible I felt? And here you are trying to weasel your way out of responsibility for your own actions! You've got to tell him the truth."

"But-"

"If you truly cared about him you'd tell him the truth."

I swallowed a sob. I didn't tell her that I meant to break up with him. I suddenly couldn't voice the words. Raoul was safe, and loving, and patient. He would probably love me even after I had told him. Erik was mysterious… he had a control over me that I did not comprehend and until now had not questioned. But I loved him… right? Was I making the wrong choice? Was I, like so many other soap opera stars, simply giving into passion? Maybe I was moving too fast…

"Alright." I said finally. "Alright, Meg, whatever you want…"

Meg stood and gave me a short hug.

"Thanks, Christine. You are doing the right thing." She turned out my light and left the room. I laid back against my pillows in the darkness. Sleep would not come for several hours. I debated in my mind endlessly about Raoul. Finally I made the horrid decision of waiting until the morning. I would speak to Raoul when I saw him…

* * *

Appropriately, the morning was dank and gray. I told Meg I'd be in around ten and sat alone in the living room, sulking. Even Shadow knew to avoid me.

My cell phone rang around nine- thirty.

"Hi."

I was afraid to hear his voice. I had refused to acknowledge Meg's accusations the night before, but now I felt the guilt crushing down on me. What had I done?

"Hey, Christine." His voice was warm, and it made me feel all the worse. Without the calming atmosphere of the music room, and the hypnotic effect of Erik's eyes, I felt doubt begin to creep into my decisions.

"Raoul, how are you?" I asked sincerely. My voice cracked.

"I miss you," he said cheerfully. He couldn't have known that my heart broke a little more. "I want to see you. Are you at work now?"

"No," I whispered. "I'm not going in for another half hour."

"Can I come over? Really quick, I promise."

"I don't know-" My angel saw everything. What if he saw this too? What would he think? But on the other hand, I had never pledged anything to Erik. He didn't know that I loved him…

"Aw, come on Christine, you'll get to work on time."

I laughed hollowly at his innocence. As if work were the only worry plaguing me. If live could have been so easy!

"I'd love it if you came, Raoul." I finally relented. "But hurry!"

"I'll be there!" He promised. "See you in a few!" He hung up and I stared guiltily at the wall. What was I doing, what was I doing?

Raoul graced my doorstep about ten minutes later. I let him in and led him to the kitchen. I figured I was going to be late for work anyway.

"Can I get you anything?"

He smiled. "I'm fine, thank you. I just came from a breakfast my publicist arranged with a few of my old friends from Barcelona."

I sat across from him. He looked beautiful; all happy and glowing. His tanned skin seemed to shine with a healthy hue and his green eyes were as gentle as ever. I couldn't believe that I was about to break his heart.

"Was it fun?"

"Sure," he shrugged. "It would have been better with you there." He reached across the table and grabbed my hand. "Christine, there is something I have to tell you."

I looked up into his eyes. I was having a hard time deciding if I liked the feeling of my hand in his. What was wrong with me? I didn't love him, I didn't! I couldn't love him- wasn't I in love with another? Wasn't I?

Doubt had finally met her match with me.

Everything was going so fast; I needed time to sort my feelings. I did not know Erik as well as I knew Raoul, but I connected to Erik in a way that Raoul could not hope to compare. And yet… Raoul loved me. I had a good, solid relationship with him. Despite my resolve to break up last night… now that the last vestiges of the sublime feeling of the music room had left my mind, I remembered that Erik and I were not the only people in the world. I had a responsibility, as Meg had said, to others around me.

I had no idea what I was going to do.

Raoul took my other hand as well and squeezed gently.

"I have to go away for a few weeks. The tour was really sudden. I'm scheduled in Hawaii and then in Australia." He hesitated, and I felt a sudden fear. He was going away- he was leaving me? "I'd love it if you could come with me."

I blinked. He held my hands firmly and continued to look into my eyes pleadingly. It was such a beautiful thing to ask, so characteristic of his sweet nature. Oh, Raoul! If only I could be that loving partner you deserve!

I looked away from him and he cleared his throat. I was sure I had already hurt him with that miniscule movement. How could I hurt him even more, right before he was going to go away?

"I have work," I whispered, and with a vague horror I realized I was giving Raoul the same excuse I had given Erik the night before. "I have to be here, for Meg and Shadow and the company…"

He nodded sadly. "I thought you might say that. There's not even a chance, not even for a week? I could fly you back first class, it's not a problem-"

"I'm sorry, Raoul." I said softly. "I don't think it would work right now."

Raoul sighed. I could tell that he was trying to shield his sorrow from me but it wasn't working, and I found this transparency incredibly endearing. Raoul was sincere in everything he did, and I could easily see that from his expressions. With Erik… I could only hope he was sincere. His emotions were so intense and unpredictable. Yet, had he ever given me a reason to distrust him? He had seemed so utterly genuine in the music room last night…

I wished I could stop comparing them. I refocused on Raoul.

He tried to smile.

"I'll call you as often as I can. Australia is so beautiful… Christine, you would have loved it."

I swallowed tears, and I think he did, too, as he cleared his throat.

"I'll try to bring you back something-"

"Raoul, you don't have to-"

"I want to." He gave me a true smile. "It will be different without you. I wanted us to share this. But I guess you have work and everything…"

I nearly hated myself in that moment.

"Yeah," I agreed glumly. I blinked back tears. "Yeah, work and everything…"

Raoul patted my hands and let go. He reached into his pocket and drew out a small drawstring bag.

"I was hoping against hope you would say yes, but I also figured you'd say no. While I was walking along the beach this morning I saw a cute little shop and I picked this up for you…"

He pulled the strings and turned the bag over into my hands. A small, glittering ring fell into the center of my palm. I failed to stifle my gasp.

"It's not what you think," he said quickly. "I just saw it and thought of you. It is very slender and sweet, just like you. See how delicately the flowers are carved onto the sides?"

A tear dripped from the corner of my eyes. I looked up at him.

"Raoul…"

"Christine, don't cry. I'm sorry… I didn't mean to upset you-"

"No…" I ran my fingers along the sides of the ring. "You haven't upset me. I'm just dealing with so much right now, and you're going away, and…"

"I'm sorry," he repeated. "I tried to push it off, but I couldn't."

"Raoul-" I burst into real sobs and I leaned my head against my hands. The cool metal of the ring pressed into my forehead. I felt so lost, so utterly confused. "Raoul, I'm going to miss you so much!" That, at least, was truth; I hadn't realized it until the words came out of my mouth. He was like my best friend. He kept me sane when all of the craziness with Erik unfolded. Raoul had been my constant, throughout all of these weeks… Was I fickle, to be thinking this way, when only last night I had been absolutely sure of my love for Erik? I was still sure of it… but I did not know if it was a safe love. What of Carla? I didn't even know if he loved me back. He had never said anything of the sort… was I just grasping at sunbeams? Maybe he was so protective of me because he had loved my father, not because he loved me… and here was my dear Raoul…

"I know, sweetie." Raoul whispered. He ran his fingers gently through my hair. "I'm going to miss you too. But please don't cry, Christine."

I breathed in deeply and lifted my head to look up at him again. He smiled and my heart broke. The good thing to do, the moral thing to do, would have been to break up with him and explain that I had fallen in love with someone else. The good and moral thing would have been to return his ring, express my heartfelt affection for him as a friend and brother, and wish him luck in finding a girl who deserved him.

Instead, I unchained my father's necklace from around my neck and looped Raoul's ring onto the string. I smiled at him, and he reached across the table to kiss me. I didn't have the heart to do it, in the end. I couldn't break up with him now, when he was going to be leaving.

We sat for a few more minutes before I realized that it was nearing eleven o'clock. I walked him to the door and he kissed me again. "I love you, Christine," he whispered as he hugged me tightly. I stifled another sob.

I kissed him gently on the cheek.

"Be safe, Raoul."

He traced my cheek with his hand and smiled. "I'll be back before you know it, sweetie. Stay beautiful."

I laughed and he leaned his forehead against mine. We stared into each other's eyes. "I love you," he said again.

My watched beeped to signal eleven and I sighed, pulling away from him.

I held his hands in mine. "Goodbye, Raoul."

"Bye." He squeezed my hand one last time and then he was gone. I slinked against the door and pressed my hands into my eyes. I refused to cry anymore.

Why had he chosen this particular day to up and leave? Of all the times he could have gone away! I couldn't deal with all of this on my own… I needed guidance! I needed… I needed my father!

I called Meg to make my excuses, and she acquiesced, adding that I had better have a good explanation for all of this.

Shadow followed at my heels as I trekked up the stairs into my room. I retrieved an old picture of my father from the drawer in the closet and held it close to me.

"Oh, Papa… I finally found the Angel of Music." I sighed even as a giggle escaped my mouth. "I wish he had worn a big blinking neon sign: **Angel of Music**. Maybe then all of this could have been avoided…"

* * *

I left a note for Meg when she got home, telling her that I would be out until later than night. Throwing my iPod and my cell phone in my purse, I left the house and walked down to the beach. As I kicked up the sand around me, Nat King Cole sang into my ear. I snorted as he began. It was so ironic that I should hear this song now…

_Smile though your heart is aching;__  
__Smile even though it's breaking.__  
__When there are clouds in the sky, you'll get by.__  
__If you smile through your fear and sorrow,__  
__Smile and maybe tomorrow,__  
__You'll see the sun come shining through for you._

_Light up your face with gladness,__  
__Hide every trace of sadness.__  
__Although a tear may be ever so near,__  
__That's the time you must keep on trying,__  
__Smile, what's the use of crying?__  
__You'll find that life is still worthwhile,__  
__If you just smile._

There was a musical interlude and I hummed along absentmindedly, staring out onto the crashing waves. Smile… could I do it? All I wanted was to be happy. I wanted to live like normal people and be married like normal people and go out for walks on the beach with my husband like everybody else… but I wasn't normal, because of that which marred my skin and had driven Richard away. Raoul… my dearest Raoul… what would he do when he saw? I wished with all of my heart that I could trust him, but I was too cynical for idealism.

_That's the time you must keep on trying,__  
__Smile, what's the use of crying?__  
__You'll find that life is still worthwhile__  
__If you just smile._

I did smile. I couldn't tell you why. But I took his advice and smiled on the world and breathed deeply. And the world seemed to breathe an answer back to me: _Erik_, it said. Erik knew. He had to know about the fire, about the deformity… and he still had not rejected me, not yet…

I walked further along the beach and blocked all thoughts from my mind. The sun began to disappear under the horizon and I anticipated the moonrise. I loved the night so dearly. When the last vestiges of day had finally wisped away, I turned my back on the ocean and headed up the avenue towards my street.

Raoul phoned as I was getting into my car.

"Hey,"

"Hi. I don't have much time to talk- I'm getting onto the plane now."

"Okay. Be well." I hesitated, and then- "Call me when you get there, okay?"

"Alright," his voice warmed. "I love you, Christine." I smiled, even though my heart was aching… even thought it was breaking…

"Thanks for calling," I said softly. "Bye."

I tossed my phone into my bag and tried to pay attention to the road. All of my efforts were futile, in the end, because all roads led to one place.

I parked my car in front of the Opera House.

* * *

Erik sang scales with me for about half an hour before he smiled and asked me how I was. We spoke for a long while, about life, about the past, about the future… I let his voice wash over me like a warm breeze. I realized that I had missed his presence all day. Now that I was with him I felt more at peace, more complete. The heaven of our little music room was still intact and I was so grateful for the escape.

I tingled all over, like I had the night before. Just seeing him made my heart beat a little faster. I was hyperaware of everything I said and did. My heart was aching, but with love now and not with grief…

Erik handed me a piece of sheet music and his closeness enthralled me. I stepped towards the piano and leaned on the edge. I tried my hardest to sing the song through, but Erik stopped half way. He made some suggestions and we tried again. After stopping a few more times, Erik looked up at me.

"You sound sick, Christine, are you all right?" He was being the most solicitous he had ever been.

"I'm okay." I shrugged with a half smile. Erik wasn't buying it.

"Only okay?" He pulled me down to sit on the piano bench beside him and I recalled the events of last night… was it only last night?

"You look awfully tired." He noted. "Did you not sleep?"

I tried to answer, but I got caught up in the affectionate concern brewing in his eyes. His hands were still holding my upper arms and I felt lightheaded and dizzy.

"Christine?" He asked tenderly.

_I love you_, I wanted to say. _I love you, I love you, I love you! _Where had this conviction been this morning when I should have broken up with Raoul?

I clutched him and suddenly threw myself into his embrace. His arms came around me after a few seconds and he held me tightly.

"_Mon ange_, _savez-vous le chemin dangereux de tentation que vous marches?_ _Comment peux-je vous résister?"_

"Erik," I whispered. His voice was soft and deep, and it tickled my senses and created a warm, honeyed sensation in my chest. I pressed my palms against his chest and felt his heart beat beneath me.

"_Je vous aime_," He ran one hand through my hair and my scalp tingled. I shivered against him and he pressed his cheek against mine and whispered into my ear in quick, desperate French.

"_Oh Christine, pouvoir j'habite sans vous? Je vous aimerai à jamais, même quand vous me voyez qu'et me déteste..."_ He covered my hand, the one above his heart, with his own._ "…pour c'est un cadavre qui vous aime et vous adore et la volonté jamais, ne jamais vous partir."_

I wished I knew what he was saying. He sounded so passionate… was it possible that he loved me as much as I loved him? Or was I just dreaming? I closed my eyes and listened to our mingled breath. I began to hum slowly. He joined in after the first bar, and I realized that it was his _Mona Lisa_ that had sprung to my lips. We sat on the bench, wrapped in each other's embrace, humming his song that had bound me to him, and I felt that we were one soul in two bodies, brought together by the silver thread of music…

I was Mona Lisa, and he- he was not Da Vinci. No…he was Mona Lisa's mysterious smile…

* * *

**This chapter took a lot out of me. It was not difficult to write, per se, but it took a lot of effort. I wanted Christine to be real. I have to say that this was not at all my original plan for the chapter, but my Christine had other ideas, and it made a lot of sense in the end.**

**I do not in the slightest support or advocate cheating in relationships. I simply wanted to make the point that sometimes people don't even realize when they betray their beloved ones. Christine really just didn't see it that way… and I tried to make her actions believable, as I've said. After all, she's just human… and even though **_**we**_** all know that Erik is hopelessly in love with her (or at least I hope you figured that out by now and I didn't just spoil it for you) he never told her, except in French, so how can she know? **

**People like to be comfortable and a lot of the time they fear change. Christine had a good thing going with Raoul and she really does care about him. I think it is believable that she would act the way she did. **

**I felt like that needed defending. She does love Erik, as you can see, but isn't it realistic that she'd be a little nervous about all of this? Especially when he never expressed the same sentiment? I'd like to hear your opinions on what happened. **

**I'm really excited about this story now… we're going into the home stretch (sort of)! Do any of you feel like this chapter was really depressing? It wasn't meant to be, truly! I actually really like the way it turned out. Do you guys feel that connection between Erik and Christine? They are so perfect, so complimentary to each other… **

**And **_**Smile**_** finally found its way into the story. I had been waiting to reveal it, as the story takes its title from the lyric "even though it's breaking…" The song that Erik sang in the beginning is called **_**Singer. Smile **_**was written in 1936 (I think) by ****John Turner and Geoffrey Parsons. I can't find publishing information on **_**Singer**_** but know that I certainly didn't write it and if you can find this information, I'd be grateful, so I'm not stealing anything… the version that I have is by Liza Minnelli but I know that Barbara Streisand has a version as well. They are both really excellent songs and I hope you all get a chance to hear the real things.**

**About the French—I am guilty of using freetranslation. com because I speak not a word of French. If you do speak French and the sentences sound funky to you, that is why. He basically said that he loves her a lot. I don't really want to tell you exactly what he said because that would give it away! If you really want to know, stick it back through freetranslation (good luck) and try to figure it out… it is actually a quote from the book, if you do try to translate it. **

**Anyway… I'm sure I had loads more to say but I can't think of it now. I hope you guys love this chapter because you are such loyal readers and you deserve a good chapter!**

**Oh! And don't forget-- 'ani vata' if you review! :) Thanks!**

**Be well! **

**Lovingly,**

**IceCliff **


	14. Chapter 14

**Hi!**

**I love you all, my dearest readers. Thanks for reading and a special thanks for those who review. I do a lot of writing, both fanfiction and normal fiction (like fictionpress) and sometimes it is so scary to post it online where anyone can read it… because writing comes from inside and what do you do if people reject your writing? It's a terrible blow, one that I've experienced before. And since writing is so important to me, the fact that you guys really seem to enjoy this story is such an uplifting thing. You inspire me! Thanks! :)**

**So, since you are all so lovely, I must be a better authoress and update more frequently. Trust me- I know exactly what I want to happen. Sometimes it's just hard to get it down on paper. But- I am recording the date that I began this (10/27/08). If I don't update until next year sometime, then it will just be embarrassing for me to post this and have you guys all realize how long it takes me to write! So hopefully this will motivate me to get this up sooner.**

**Anyway… on to the replies:**

**Sketchy88: Ani v'ata! (It actually means 'you and I' in an eastern language, if you were wondering. It's the beginning of this really cute song…) Thanks for putting that in there. :)**** I'm glad you enjoy the story, truly. And it's funny- after I read your review I went back and thought about that line. When I wrote it, it made sense, but now I'm having a hard time remembering what my exact intention was when I wrote it. I therefore hope you interpreted it for yourself! Happy reading! **

**Terbear: I'm so happy to see that you are still with this story! I've always appreciated your reviews. I will try to keep your suggestion in mind. You'll notice that chapter 12 with the huge "Erik!" cliffhanger had no ending author's note. I thought it would kill the suspenseful mood. Thanks! Ha… I love this! Yes, good- I want you to be curious about that big something he couldn't tell her… and what a big something it is… :)**** Happy reading! I really hope you enjoy this chapter!**

**Captain Ichabod Rainey: Thank you so much for your reviews! They are so encouraging. :)**

**As usual, I'm sure there is a bunch of stuff I wanted to tell you that I can't remember. If any of you picked up on the slight discrepancy about Christine having taken French through high school and then her not understanding Erik's French, well… lots of people take languages in high school but end up not really understanding them. I say that this is one of those cases. Another thing—the formatting is weird in this story. It looks much more normal on Word. If it bothers you, I'm sorry. I'll try to format better when I post this chapter. And I'll have to do some editing on Chapter 13. Anyway…**

**I'll leave you with my usual warning: INFER! The italicized parts are so important… this one and the last one correspond. I went through the entire story today to try and make sure everything fits together. I want to avoid plot discrepancies and tie up the loose ends… that may be difficult, especially as I continue to add more to the pile!**

**~*~I'd like to specially thank **LittleLottexoxEriksTrueAngel**--- for including my story in her community, ****Christine's Favories:Best Phantom Stories Mainly EC** **~*~***

-Please read the author's note and the bottom if you thoroughly disliked this chapter and please tell me why in a review, if you chose to review-

_"No! No!" The man- hardly a man, really, but a young one having the weight of the world thrust upon him- ripped a strand of fabric from his already torn shirt and tried to wrap it around the older man's wounds. He dared not touch the knife. He knew that it would be better to leave it there until the ambulance came._

_"No! No, please-" The young one pressed down on the bleeding injury and grasped the older man's hand. They met each other's eyes._

_"Erik," the older man sighed. His voice was fading._

_Erik was startled into tears. "Don't leave, sir," he whispered. "Please, don't leave…"_

_"I never thought I'd see you cry for me, Erik. I thought you were done with love, after your mother."_

_"My mother, sir?" In the current situation, Erik did not have time to bristle. The truth came stumbling out. "I loved her, yes, because I was a little boy and she was all I had. But she hated me and you… you…"_

_The older man took a rasping breath and clutched Erik's hand._

_"I won't survive the night," he said at last._

_Erik choked on a sob. "You will, you will! You must! I'll call 9-1-1." He leapt up to reach for the phone. The older man took hold of Erik's sleeve and pulled him down close._

_"No, Erik. It is no use."_

_Tears blurred Erik's vision and he blinked them back quickly, afraid to lose the image of his surrogate father. The saltwater drops trickled over his eyelids and slid down his cheeks. Erik laid his forehead against the older man's chest. There was a plunging, sickening feeling developing within him. He could not face this loss._

_"Please don't die," he pleaded. "You are all I have in the world, sir…"_

_The older man spread one weakening arm over Erik's shoulders. He wanted to sit up and hug the boy properly, but he could not find the strength. He knew that his time was waning away._

_"Erik, I need you to be strong now."_

_The young man continued to weep. _

_"Erik, my dear boy… I love you. If you were my own son I couldn't love you more."_

_At this, the young man's tears turned into tormented cries from deep within his chest. He had never been loved before, and now, when he had finally found it, it was leaving him. _

_"Sir- Mr. Daae- _Papá-" _Erik morphed into French. _

_"Shh now, Erik." The older man could only whisper. He was in great pain. "Didn't we suspect something like this to happen? I-"_

_"But not like this!" Erik snapped his head up to look the older man in the eye. "Not now!"_

_"There is nothing that can be done." _

_"There is always a way- I can make anything happen, if I really want to-"_

_"This isn't a magic trick, Erik," the man whispered tenderly. "I need you to listen to me, now."_

_Erik swallowed his sobs and tried to focus on the older man's words, as they were very faint._

_Mr. Daae closed his eyes and breathed deeply. _

_"I need you to promise me something, Erik."_

_"Anything." The young man knew that it was coming to an end. He could feel death –hadn't they always been close?- inching its way forward to once again intrude into his life. All he had left now was to be sincere with this man whom he had loved so much._

_"Protect Christine. Don't let them find her. Promise me that you will watch over her."_

_"I promise."_

_"Be an angel to her. You are already her Angel of Music, even if she doesn't know it yet. I'm afraid for her once I'm gone. She's never really been out in the world alone. Make sure she doesn't fall into anything unsafe or unseemly…"_

_"I promise I will."_

_"She'll understand you, Erik, even when no one else will give you a chance. She'll be your guiding light…"_

_Erik couldn't hold back his tears any longer. _

_"Don't let them find her," the older man repeated. _

_"I won't."_

_"Don't cry for me, Erik."_

_"I must," the younger man countered quietly._

_Mr. Daae took hold of his hand. "Do you have the tickets?" He asked finally._

_Erik frowned slightly. "I do still have them. But Sir…"_

_"Get me a piece of paper – quickly, now- and I will write her a letter explaining everything."_

_"But… you want me to take her with me?"_

_"Yes, if that is the safest thing for her."_

_"What if it's not?"_

_"If she is with you, Erik, she will be safe. I will write her that letter…"_

_The young one went to retrieve the requested paper, and he hesitated before handing it to the older man. Decision was before him, a ruthless, unforgiving mistress. He did not want to disobey Sir's last wishes, but he had said 'if' had he not? _

_Erik had decided, a long while ago, that he could not take her with him. But what if it was the safest thing? Could he really be away from her? Would he not simply melt into nonexistence? He loved her so desperately. How could he break a promise to Sir? And yet… he couldn't bear her rejection. _

_The older man finished the letter quickly and set it on the table._

"_Sir, you will not die." Erik said with decision. It was easier to make that decision instead._

_The older man laughed softly. "You have always delighted me, Erik… play me something."_

"_What?"_

"_Play me something… my new violin is over there, do you see?"_

_Erik took the instrument in hand and lifted it onto his shoulder. _

"_Will you forgive me if I do not take her with me?"_

_The older man looked at him directly._

"_I know why you ask that- Erik, I tell you she will understand. You will be so happy together. Don't underestimate my daughter."_

"_But- will you forgive me?"_

_The older man sighed. "Play me something beautiful, Erik…"_

_Death came soon after, quiet, unassuming, and quite unaware of the devastation he had caused to his kin, Erik, and to Christine, whose fate now hung suspended between a request and an unforgiven plea._

Eventually I went to work. A few days after Raoul left I began to feel slightly more able to deal with the world. Things began to calm down. Raoul called me at least once a day, and Erik and I had our usual nightly music lessons. Construction was well underway for Erik's masterpiece. I split my time between the construction site and my office.

Meg and I finally squared things away, too. The night after Raoul left she insisted on taking me out for dinner. She demanded an update.

We walked to a cute little restaurant a few blocks down from the house and opted to sit at an outdoor table on the balcony that overlooked the ocean. At night, with the moon blazing down at the rolling waves, and the endless stretch of inky black water capped with white foam meeting the dark horizon, the view was spectacular. At dinner, Meg and I talked of mostly normal things. I knew she had been informally seeing a guy named Nathan, and I pressed her for more details. She smiled slyly, and I wished for a minute that I could tell such a story of normalcy. No angels and no murders and no deformities…

Meg asked me about the progress with Mr. Silver's house. The foundations had only begun to be laid, because Erik had insisted on changing the head supervisor at least three times. He wanted perfection, and I suspected that even with this new guy in charge, Erik would be doing most of the real supervising. I was excited to see the house go up. It would be a magnificent feat of architecture.

After we paid the check, Meg suggested a walk along the ocean. I fell into step behind her, and we walked for several blocks in silence.

"Something's different about you, Chrissie," she said finally.

I glanced at her sideways, trying to read her expression.

"Something? Like what?" Truly, I felt different.

"I can't put my finger on it. But ever since you met that man, that Erik…"

I shivered at the mention of his name and imagined that I saw his golden eyes above me, engraved in the face of the moon.

"I don't know," she continued thoughtfully. "It seems like you are less cynical than you used to be. Less angry and more receptive. Of course," she added as an afterthought, "that was around the same time you met Raoul, too. I think Raoul's done wonders for you, Christine. I've never seen you so happy before."

It wasn't just that I was less cynical, although I had sensed that particular change. Meg had missed the fact that there was no going back for me. The angel had moved me permanently. He could not be apart from my life anymore. And this, by necessity, made me happier, and more receptive to feelings of love, feelings that I had previously spurned. But I also felt the certain degree of remoteness that I had always employed beginning to expand. I kept Meg in the dark about a lot of things, like Erik's apparent visit to Iran, and how I found it inconsistent with all of his other actions; Nadir's warnings about Erik's nature; the beautiful Carla and her brazenness with Erik; my conflicting feelings for Raoul; and my inability to break the truth to him.

She thought that Raoul had wrought these changes, but she was only partially correct. Erik had opened me up when he coaxed me back into my music. Raoul had tapped into that latent yearning for belonging that Erik had brought to the surface and then embellished it by teaching me how to smile and laugh sincerely.

Meg mused over her relationship with Nathan.

"I think it may be too soon after my breakup with Randy…" she sighed, and then she perked up and looked at me sharply. "Speaking of break-ups, Chrissie, I'm glad that Raoul didn't break up with you. You are so clearly meant for each other."

"Break up with me?" I asked, surprised. We stopped at a darkened vista beside a sandy alcove. I trained my eyes on her face and could only see distorting shadows play across her cheeks. "Why would he break up with me?"

She lifted an eyebrow and spoke slowly and deliberately. "When you told him about Erik, he must have been upset. I'm glad he's a good enough guy to overlook it."

"Oh." I nodded quickly. "Yeah. He took it kind of hard at first, but I apologized profusely and he… he forgave me."

"That's good." Meg seemed to have bought it. I don't know why or when she ever began to trust me, but clearly it was a bad idea. "I'm proud of you for telling him. It couldn't have been easy."

"No…" I watched the pavement below me and shoved at a few grains of sand with my shoe.

Meg put a comforting hand on my shoulder, one that did anything but console me.

"You're over this… infatuation, right? I mean, Raoul is such a great guy… it wouldn't be fair if you weren't loyal."

"I know," I whispered softly. And how I knew… I felt tears coming on and I silently willed her to stop talking.

"I know you think you loved him," she said, "but I didn't believe you then and I'm glad you don't feel that way now. I mean, after what you've told me, it doesn't even sound like he loved you back. It's no good chasing after a guy like that. Raoul is a better choice for you."

I nodded absentmindedly. _He doesn't love you back… it didn't even sound like he loved me back…_

"How is your mother, Meg?" I asked suddenly. We continued walking, and with her cheerful chattering in the background, I tried to bury my sorrow. Did he love me? Could he love me, when he _knew_? But what about Carla? I hated to remember her and she always popped into my mind. Beautiful, dark- skinned, alluring Carla… I missed Erik suddenly, and I wondered if he would be in the music room if I chanced by there now. It seemed impossible, but then again, he was my angel.

It was while I was on this train of thought that my cell phone rang, and I picked it up, prepared to hear Raoul's voice.

"Hello?"

"How are you, my dear?"

I stopped abruptly and Meg kept walking and talking for a few spaces before glancing behind her in bemused surprise.

"Christine?" She asked, but I made a gesture towards the phone, and she frowned and turned away from me, hoisting herself to sit on top of the piled rocks along the sidewalk.

It gave me time to collect myself before speaking to him, anyway.

"I'm good," I answered quietly, listening to the static on the other side of the phone and imaging where he was right now, what he was doing.

"Excellent."

I breathed in slowly. His voice was striking in the darkness, like a sudden bolt of lightening across a black sky.

"Christine?"

"Yes."

"You sound breathless, are you all right?"

"Oh- yes… yes, thank you, Erik."

"Are you at home right now?"

"No, Meg and I took a walk… why?"

He was silent for a second. "I was going to offer that we… well, if you are busy, there is no need-"

"No, no, go on! What were you saying?"

"You asked me if we could take a walk by Forest Hill Park and I thought… tonight is such a lovely night. I wanted to offer that we take a walk along the lake's perimeter… unless you are averse to the idea."

He was… ranting? Maybe I couldn't call it that, precisely, but Erik had always been so concise with his words, the commanding master of brevity. Now he sounded uncharacteristically nervous, second-guessing himself.

"That would be charming, Erik." I breathed, a smile breaking out across my face. I would see him again!

"Do you think so? What delights you delights me, Christine. I shall pick you up by your house."

"Oh! Thank you," I suppressed a giggle, the source of which I could not identify.

"May I estimate ten minutes?"

I glanced around the area and quickly calculated the distance.

"That sounds perfect." I agreed.

"Yes…" There was silence on the other line. "I… I am very happy. I shall see you shortly. Goodbye, my dear."

"Bye…" I flipped my phone closed and breathed in the suddenly sweet night air, reveling in the delicious excitement that filled my chest.

Meg looked at me expectantly and I smiled at her.

"Who was that?" She asked when I caught up with her. She had been just far enough away to not overhear the conversation.

I hesitated. After all of her barbs against my relationship with Erik, I did not think it wise to tell her the truth.

I was quickly turning into a chronic liar, and I knew it would all turn out badly.

Despite that, I grinned at her and said with a voice thick with exuberance, "It was Raoul. He calls me often."

"That's so sweet. And it's made you so happy! Oh, Chrissie, I am so glad for the both of you. That you found each other is a blessing, truly."

I wasn't listening to her, so wrapped up was I in the thought of seeing Erik again. Did I look presentable? How romantic it would be, being alone with him by the lake's edge, on a gorgeous night like this. Would he sing for me?

I rather think I should have listened to her, because I may have caught the warning signs in her words and her actions. Really hearing what she had said could have saved me so much pain.

* * *

I guided Meg home and we entered the house in record time.

"I'm kind of tired," she announced. "I think I'm going to hit the sack and maybe I'll get in early tomorrow."

She pulled a glass of water from the fridge and nudged Shadow with her foot when he barked.

"When do you think you'll be in?"

"I'm scheduled to be at the trailer tomorrow, remember?"

"Oh yeah, Wednesday. Right." She smiled and downed the water. "Well, are you turning in?"

"No…" I slurred, "I think I'll go back out for a bit. You know, just to enjoy the night."

"Do you want me to come with you?" She asked uncertainly. "I hate leaving you all alone."

"Don't worry, Meg. Get some sleep."

I smiled and she smiled back.

"Thanks, Chrissie."

I watched her ascend the staircase and felt that now was the perfect time for me to tell her how much I loved her and appreciated her as my best friend.

But I kept silent and instead made my way outside to meet the other person in my life whom I loved too much to tell, for fear of rejection.

Erik was prompt. I had walked a few blocks down from the house, in case Meg was watching from the window, and Erik's black car was only two lone headlights slowing down at the curb beside me.

He rolled down his window and I stared inside, trying to get a glimpse of him.

"What are you doing out here?"

I smiled at the sound of his voice.

"Waiting for you," I shrugged. I heard a click and watched as the passenger door magically opened before me. In the car's dim light I could see his hand extended out towards me.

"Please, step in."

I ducked into the front seat and closed the door behind me. He slowly accelerated and I felt the giddiness of being so close to him, so _secluded_ with him.

He clear his throat a few times, and as I watched him out of the corner of my eye, I was certain he was going to say something to me. But each time he seemed to think better of it and he redirected his attention to the road.

There were a thousand things I wanted to say; _I missed you… I love you… Angel, will you sing for me? You are so breathtaking… _

The car was smooth as cream and I could only hear our gentle breathing and the occasional strong whip of the wind against the windshield. I shivered with content. I wanted to be close to him always.

It was times like this that I forgot Carla, and all other things that affected our relationship. I didn't want to think about them, so for those precious moments with him, they simply did not exist.

He gently turned into a deserted parking lot and I unbuckled my seat belt.

"Is this it?"

"Yes, my dear." He whispered. I blinked and shook my head to clear it of the fogginess that his voice induced.

Erik unlocked my door and I stepped out into the cool night air.

"It's so beautiful," I observed, spreading my arms out to the sky. "Erik, have you ever seen such a stunning sky?"

He didn't reply, and I glanced back to find him watching me intently. I felt myself grow weaker as he approached me slowly, gazing at me with those golden eyes.

"I have seen skies blazing red and burning amber in the sulky heat of the Persian Gulf. I have watched the stars slowly disappear in the approaching dawn of the English countryside. But never have I seen a sky more magnificent than the one I saw every night in New Hampshire."

My heart thudded painfully once at the unexpected reminder of my father and my loss, and I looked up at him.

"I used to go up onto the roof at night and compose under the Milky Way." He sighed, and stared out into the dark forest. "Your father would laugh at me when he found me asleep on the roof the next morning."

I swallowed tears at the mention of my father and instead focused on the bright intensity of his eyes, a memory swirling in the back of my mind.

"I always used to hear footsteps above me at night. Papa told me I was crazy."

"Did you hear them?" He asked, smiling lightly. "I tried to be as quiet as possible. You always had immaculate hearing."

I shook my head. "They weren't your footsteps. They were Papa's. I could distinguish his footsteps from anyone else's because they were heavy and quick in succession. If I had heard you, I would have been frightened by the idea of a stranger on the roof. Instead, I often accused Papa of hiking on the roof."

"What on earth would he do on the roof, Christine?"

"I don't know," I smiled, "I used to tell him that he must fly up to the moon every night and bring down the music from the angel." He was blurred, in all of his beauty, by the mist in my eyes. "I didn't think an angel could come down to earth… Obviously I was wrong."

Erik gave me a sharp look before he noticed the grief that I had tried to hide. He twisted my shoulders and titled my head back, so that I was gazing directly at the moon. Then I felt his arms wrap around me from behind as he pulled my body against his.

I felt his voice beside me, and it tickled my hair against my cheek. He stroked a few strands of hair away from my ear and took my right hand is his and pointed up towards the moon.

"Do you see the moon there, shining so brightly?" He whispered. I nodded, and he tightened his grip around my middle, nestling his face closer into my neck. "Your father is up there, playing his violin to serenade the stars, watching over you always…"

"What does he play?" I felt like a child, but I sensed that he was willing to comfort me in any way necessary, and I therefore felt content in reverting to the inner child that still clung to the memory of my father. He seemed to know that I needed hope, and not rationality, to help me cope.

"He plays _Tubas in the Moonlight_. Do you know it?" I shook my head and he lowered my arm and fully embraced me from behind.

He began to hum, and I could hear the vibrations from through his chest. "_Through the twilight, I can hear the humming of a melancholy coon. For the memories that still linger, I thank you mister Moon . . . Tubas in the moonlight, playing for me all night . . ._ _Stars above me, shining brightly. Why can't I be sitting there beside her?Tubas in the moonlight will bring my loved one home . . ."_

Erik ran his fingers again through the curls behind my ear and tilted my chin so my head lay back against him as he held my face between his hands.

"Although if I were up there, Christine, and I had the providence to gaze upon you, I would sing something different…"

"What would you sing?"

"_Moonlight becomes you- it goes with your hair."_ He hummed a soft interlude and I closed my eyes. He gently rocked me in his embrace in time with music. "_I'm thrilled at the sight . . . moonlight becomes you so."_

I sighed very softly and he released me, although he remained in very close proximity to me.

"1942. Written by Jimmy Van Heusen and Johnny Burke."

"You mean you didn't write it?" I asked dazedly, staring up at the sky and listening to his voice.

He laughed, and trills traveled the length of my body.

"I don't compose every song in the world, Christine. I have to let the rest of them do _something_."

"Would that you did compose every song… the world could be such a musical place!"

"I doubt people would appreciate it enough. They never do." Erik placed himself before me and offered his hand.

"Would you like to take a walk? The lake is just beyond that turn."

"I'd be delighted." I took his hand and he led me along the starlit path.

"I wish I could pull songs out of the top of my head like you do," I said wistfully.

"It's a great talent, my dear, only given to those chosen few."

"Erik!" I gave him a sharp look and he smiled, squeezing my hand.

"I've lived in music for so long, Christine, that it just comes naturally. Hopefully one day you too will know enough music to be able to live in it, so that words themselves are not sufficient to express that which is deeply felt, but rather only through music can you connect with the world."

We walked on in silence and I contemplated the two of us. There was a comfortable, lovely feeling lodged within me, and paired with the tingling I felt in my hand where he touched me, I couldn't help but palpably feel my love for him in every step; it was a wonder it did not come off me in waves that he could sense. I thought about what we had spoken about. He was the only one I really allowed to speak about my father. I would tolerate such conversation from no one else. Only Erik could comfort me…

"Erik?"

"Yes?" He murmured. My heart skipped a beat.

"Tell me, when did you go to England?"

He turned his golden gaze on me and I felt a sudden tensing of his muscles.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean…" I ripped my eyes away from his and stared into the blackness. "You said…" My throat had suddenly dried, and I had to swallow to moisten it. "You said you had seen English sunrises. Did you accompany my father and me when we went to England that summer?"

"No. I went… separately."

"Oh." I fumbled around for something to say. I sensed that I had hit a nerve, although I couldn't say why. "Was that the same trip as when you went to Iran?"

Erik cleared his throat. "You are very inquisitive tonight."

I shrugged. There was a catch in his voice, but I missed its significance completely.

"I love England."

"I know you do," he sighed. I was surprisingly distressed at the sound, that anything I did would cause him discomfort, and I held his hand within both of mine.

"Did you like England?" I gazed at the side of his face that was visible to me in the sparse light. As we moved under the trees, he began to fade in and out of the shadows.

"It wasn't a matter of liking or disliking… I-I'd prefer not to speak of it."

"Alright." I said, a little uneasy. He stared straight ahead, and I could see that he was still tense, closing me off. What was it about his past that was so troubling to him? Especially when he knew so much about me…

We reached the lake and I laughed, letting go of his hand.

"Erik, it's so beautiful! It reminds me of the _Moonlight Sonata_."

"Does it?" He asked. I turned back to look at him. He was enshrouded by darkness, leaning up against a tall oak tree. My breath caught within me at his otherworldly appearance. "That is your favorite song, is it not?"

"It is… I can hear it when I look at this lake."

"Do you hear it, Christine?" He sounded eager now, like a little child, and he came to stand beside me. His eyes were bright as they stared into mine. He pointed one hand out into the distance and I followed his gaze. "That lake there," he whispered, a strange, intense emotion lining his words, "and those dark trees… the crickets in the grass and the wind in the leaves… do you hear the animals breathe? Do you hear the rustling of fur, the waltz of the flowers?"

"I hear it, Erik."

"That is the most sublime sound in the world… do you hear the click of imagination? _Silently_ _the senses abandon their defenses…_ Do you hear it secretly posses the world? _Hard as lightening, soft as candlelight…_ Do you hear the music of the night?"

I nodded breathlessly.

"Oh, close your eyes, Christine…" I obeyed, and I gasped as I felt his hands along my arms, giving me chills.

"_Close your eyes, let your spirit start to soar…_"

I breathed in deeply and unclosed my eyes to behold him, standing there framed in the moonlight like a true angel of music.

Erik gazed at me, his eyes tracing all of the features of my face and finally probing the depths of my eyes. The gold was unreadable, like a pure piece of solid metal. He removed his hands from me slowly, and I eventually looked away from him, feeling as though I had been awoken from a trance.

I walked towards the bank of the lake and sat down in the dark gray grass. I was quickly coming to love the nighttime as I had not loved it before… I sat and tried to hear the music of the night.

Erik sat down a few feet from me and stared into the murky face of the waters.

I wished he wasn't so much of an enigma. Even after all he had done for me… what did I really know about him? I had no idea what was going on inside of his head right now, whether he regretted this excursion or not, how he felt about me…

"Erik?"

He pushed a small stick into the water and observed as it sent black ripples across the lake. Then he looked up at me receptively.

"Where did you live in New Hampshire?"

Erik blinked, surprised. "I thought you knew," he said. "I lived with you."

"With-us?" I stared at him, and he shrugged elegantly, as if in positive response. How could I have missed _that_? "What about your parents? Didn't you say you came to America with your mother…?"

Erik sighed. He lied down across the grass and stared straight up at the moon. I wondered if I had hit another nerve.

"You'll also remember that I told you she was ill. I had already met your father by the time she died… and that's when he offered me lodging within your home."

"But… how old were you?"

"Not older than twelve, I think, although I can't be sure."

"Can't be sure?" I echoed. "What do you mean, don't you-"

"Some things," he cut me off firmly, "are better left unasked, my dear."

I blinked away my confusion and tried for another direction.

"Did you have schooling?"

"Your father home-schooled me, such as it was." The answers sounded incredibly forced, but I continued anyway. What was there that was so horrible that he did not want to tell me of the time he spent in my house?

"Really?" A small smile came unwittingly to my face. I had never imagined my father as a schoolteacher. "How old was I when you came to live with us?"

"You were nearing your sixth birthday."

I sighed, and copied his movements to lower myself down onto the ground.

"Where did you live? I mean… where did you spend most of your time?"

"When you were not home, I went into the music room… that's how I learned your schedule so well. I couldn't chance that you would come and accidentally find me. At other times, or when I was not involved with music, I stayed within the walls, so to speak. Your house was very old, and it had many unused rooms, which you probably never saw or thought about. I used those old hallways and spacey walls extensively."

"Is that why you are so good at stealth?"

"I don't know what you mean, my dear." He sounded a little relieved that I had stopped my questioning for the moment.

"Sometimes you are halfway across the room and the next minute you are right next to me, and I never heard you approach."

"Oh, yes… I have developed many such skills, probably out of necessity than anything else."

"So it was to keep me uninformed of you?"

"…or something like that." He said hesitatingly. "There were other people to whom I did not wish to… alert my presence."

I sensed that this was another issue that I should not probe. I fell silent and the pair of us laid next to each other, staring upwards into the heavens. My gaze traced the path of the stars, the tops of the darkened trees, and then the gleaming black waters of the lake. I began to chuckle.

"What is so funny?" He asked, amused. I could hear the beautiful smile on his lips.

"We came here to walk around the lake… and look! Here we are not even looking at it!"

Erik jumped up immediately, holding out his hand to me. From my vantage point on the ground he looked like a giant with bright golden eyes.

"_S'il vous plaît, mademoiselle." _

I took his hand gratefully and he pulled me up with surprising strength. I leaned on him, not relinquishing his hand, and began to tread along the circumference of the lake.

"How many languages do you speak?" I asked lightly.

"Three, fluently."

"Let's see- English, French and Farsi, right?"

He pressed his lips together. I wasn't going for that- I would get this answer out of him.

"Well, you _do _speak Farsi, don't you?" I pushed, "You can't deny it; I've heard you myself."

Erik sighed. "Yes, alright, yes. I speak Farsi," he said firmly.

I smiled, triumphant. We rounded a sharper corner and I wondered absentmindedly if there were fish in this lake.

"Do you think in French?"

"No, I think in English, most of the time…"

"But you've spoken French to me."

"I have."

"Well… why?" I looked up at the side of his face and saw that he was battling something. There had been a current running through his voice, an edge of emotion that I couldn't identify. What was he thinking? What was it that he didn't want to tell me?

"Sometimes," he began, whispering and halting, "sometimes I… perhaps I shouldn't say…"

"Oh, Erik, you can tell me anything." We stopped and I grasped both of his hands in mine, smiling into his now uncertain eyes. "I promise-"

The words seemed to do the trick, and he gave me a soft half smile that nearly melted my heart.

"Sometimes, if I feel… very much… I will return to French, as it was my native language. I find it more expressive than English, and most of my original compositions are written in French… I translated them for you and your father."

It was an opening insight into his soul, his heretofore unknown and endearing personality, and it made him seem more human and so much more alive. If it was possible, my feelings for him became even sweeter, even more tender.

"That's beautiful, Erik…"

He squeezed my hand for a moment, staring back at me with unfathomable eyes.

"_Non, vous êtes beau._" He smiled and I laughed, wondering what strong emotion he was now feeling.

"You won't tell me what you said, will you?"

"Not a chance."

We made a full round of the lake before I yawned, and Erik began to lead me down our former path, towards the car. I pleaded with him to stay a little longer, and he patted my hand and told me it was late; I should be getting to sleep. He did not want me to be tired at our lesson the next night.

I admit I was extraordinarily sleepy, but I didn't want the magical night to end. He was so beautiful, and I was so much in love…

As we drove, I felt my eyes droop, and eventually my head was resting against his shoulder. I didn't say anything, hoping that he wouldn't protest, and when he didn't, I surrendered myself to sleep.

I awoke to a gentle prodding against my shoulder. Erik was gazing at me from above, smiling softly.

"Christine, you are home. Would you like me to see you in?"

"Oh…" I blinked a few times and tried to adjust myself to being awake. I was surprised at how weak I really felt. Why hadn't I been getting any sleep lately? It was the anguish, the stress, the anxiety of these past few weeks…

"Christine?"

I snapped my eyes back to him. "Oh, thank you. But I think I'm okay by myself."

We faced goodbye, and I didn't know what to say. I couldn't express my feelings adequately.

He unlocked my door and watched me closely as I unbuckled my seatbelt. I turned to look at him as I opened my door, and was irresistibly drawn back to him. I laid my hand over his that lay on the steering wheel.

"Thank you Erik," I said sincerely, searching his eyes. What was he feeling? Was he feeling love, like I was? "Thank you for a lovely, incredible evening."

He nodded, his eyes shadowed. "You are always welcome Christine. Please- have sweet dreams, and be well. I shall see you tomorrow morning."

I smiled weakly and then removed myself from his car, feeling like I had left a part of myself behind as I shut the door.

* * *

Meg was up bright and early the next morning, and she woke me at a quarter to eight by knocking loudly on my door.

"Chrissie! I have coffee!" I heard her bound down the stairs and I groaned, throwing a hand over my forehead. I was still so tired! I wanted to sleep for another week.

Instead I threw the covers off and took a quick, hot shower. I toweled off and grabbed my brush from the bathroom counter. Walking towards my closet, I brushed my hair out with practiced strokes, and quickly picked out an appropriate outfit for being on the site all morning. Then I organized my hair into a thick braid.

Meg called for me again and I sighed, bottling my unfounded irritation and slipped a pair of comfortable flats on. I grabbed my bag and then made my way downstairs.

"'Morning!" She grinned at my bleary eyes and handed me a steaming cup.

"Thanks," I said, sipping the creamy black liquid. It felt like honey going down my throat and I smiled, feeling suddenly more alert. "That really hits the spot!"

"It's my fantastic brewing skills." Meg announced. I snorted, picking up the bag of Insta-Coffee that lay on the table. She grabbed it from me and quickly stuffed it in the garbage, giving me a smirk and small wink.

"You know you love my brewing, Chrissie. You couldn't do without it."

"Of course not."

Meg mock glared at me for a second before standing up and smiling. "I'm going to the office. Will you be in touch?"

"Sure. If any calls come for me, put them to my cell phone. I don't know how reliable that trailer phone is going to be, with all the calls coming from the house."

"Okay, will do." She surveyed me for a second, and I was suddenly uncomfortable under her scrutiny. I fixed my gaze on the table and stirred my coffee more than necessary. "Are you okay, Chrissie?"

"Yeah, of course." I hoped I hadn't answered too fast. "Why wouldn't I be?"

She laid a hand on my shoulder. "I just meant- with Raoul gone and everything, are you okay?"

"Oh, yeah… yeah, I'm okay." I smiled up at her, and she patted my shoulder.

"Good. I'll see you later, then."

Meg left and I went to check on Shadow, who was still sleeping soundly. I refilled his feeder and then sat watching him for a few minutes. Meg seemed to think that my life revolved around Raoul. Granted, I probably should have been more focused on him, especially since I was still dating him, but she accorded everything to him! I wanted to set her straight but I couldn't, because I knew how strongly she felt against Erik, and I knew that she could be headstrong sometimes. I couldn't be sure that she would not call Raoul and tell him the whole truth. I wasn't ready for that yet, especially not over the phone. I would tell Raoul when he returned.

Now I had to get to work before I was ridiculously late.

* * *

I pulled into the parking lot in time to see Nadir stepping out of his car. I smiled, feeling especially warm towards him. I felt like he had given me his blessing to be close to Erik when he allowed me to find him that day.

"Nadir!" I quickly exited my car and jogged up to walk beside him.

He smiled gently at me and nodded a greeting. "How are you today, Christine?"

"Excellent!" I truly did feel excellent, now. I was among friends, and I was going to see Erik!  
"Good, good. You haven't been over here since last Monday. Everything is progressing nicely."

"Marvelous. I'm very excited about this."

We walked towards the trailer and he stopped a few feet before the entrance.

"What is it?"

Nadir turned to face me and I could see foreboding in his deep eyes. I swallowed a sudden unknown fear and took a deep breath to calm myself down.

"Nadir?" I asked, a little shakily.

He sighed grimly and broke eye contact, staring down at the ground.

"I wish things could have been different." He said haltingly. I didn't understand, and it frightened me terribly. "I wish to apologize to you… none of it was your fault, Christine. Just, try to accept that… it wasn't his fault either."

"What?" _His_- he must have been referring to Erik. Nadir shook his head and began to ascend the stairs, and I lunged after him.

"Wait- Nadir- please, I'm so sick of these mysteries! Could you please just tell me-"

"It was your choice," he said firmly, beginning to turn the doorknob. "I warned you. When you chose him you chose this, too. And you must now accept these mysteries… these _masks_…"

I sighed, frustrated and upset. What did these two have against telling the truth? Why was drama an indispensable part of Erik's life? I followed Nadir into the trailer.

"Good morning."

I looked up at smiled at an angel who sat at the head of the table. His voice did wonders for my nerve endings. I felt lighter all of a sudden. I nearly flounced over towards him and sat down.

"How are you?" I asked sincerely.

He gave me a level stare and then slowly said that he had seen better days. I blinked, a little offended. Had I done something to upset him that I should receive this treatment? What about last night?

I sighed _again_ and then picked up my folders.

"What's on the agenda this morning?"

We spent the morning polishing some designs and then running them by the men. Meg put a few calls through my cell phone from various other customers. I didn't deal with their cases specifically, but they had complaints that had to go to me, as the head of the department.

Finally we broke for lunch and I sighed, stretching my arms over my head.

Erik watched me. "Are you still tired?" He asked softly.

I glanced at him, surprised at the first shred of affection he had shown me all morning. Could I really deal with this kind of inconsistency all my life?

I looked into his eyes and knew that I could, because it was Erik, and I wanted nothing but to be beside him. He asked me if I was going anywhere for lunch and I shook my head, silently wishing that he would ask me to accompany him somewhere. He sighed, saying that I should eat more. I frowned and asked him where _he _was eating.

He gave me an enigmatic smile. "I don't eat much, my dear. I'll stay here to oversee the construction."

"That's what we hired the _overseer_ for, Erik." I said glumly.

He laughed at me and I glared.

"I'm sorry," he said, holding up his hands, "but you are very adorable when you pout."

My breath caught and I felt my cheeks burn. _Adorable, he thinks I'm adorable!_

Nadir popped his head in and called Erik out. Erik nodded towards me and mentioned something about seeing me later. I nodded, cheery with excitement. They left and I leaned back in my chair, smiling.

My cell phone rang a few minutes later, and I took a few moments to distinguish between the ring and the sound of my rumbling stomach.

Then I picked up.

"Hey Raoul."

"Hi, darling. How are you?"

"I'm good. But what about you, what time is it there?"

He chuckled. "I'm still in Hawaii, Christine. The time is the same. I don't leave for Australia until next week."

"Oh." I blushed. "Sorry. Well… how is everything going?"

"It's really great. Have you seen me on T.V?"

"Oh, uh…" I scrambled to come up with some believable excuse as to why I hadn't been watching my boyfriend on T.V…

"That's alright," he said cheerfully, and I let out a breath, thankful for his good nature. "I don't even like watching surfing on T.V. It's only exciting if you are there."

Which only served to remind me that I wasn't there with him, like I should have been.

"Anyway," he sighed. "How's Meg?"

"Meg?" I hadn't known that he and Meg were close at all, but if they had developed a friendship, it would explain why she was so pro-Raoul. "Meg is fine. She's at the office now, if you want to talk to her."

"That's okay. I was just wondering. She's really great."

"Yeah, that's why I live with her."

He laughed and the other line went fuzzy for a second.

"Raoul?" No answer. "Raoul, are you still there?"

"Christine? Can you hear me?"

"Yeah-"

"Sorry, I must have gone through a dead zone. Listen, I'm about to see some reporters, but I'll be free towards dinnertime. Can I call you then?"

"Sure. Just make sure it's after six. I have an engagement."

"Alright. What's happening?" He sounded interested.

I stuttered. Music lesson with the angel? Wouldn't cut it. Seeing my beloved? I doubted it… "I have a… thing." _Brilliant, Christine, brilliant._ I blurted out the first safe name I thought of."Mr. Tater, from the Opera House… he wanted me to… come to his… thing."

"Okay," he chuckled a bit. "Sounds like you are excited."

"Utterly." I went with his assumption and inflected it with sarcasm.

"Well, have fun." He believed me. "I'll call you after, okay?"

"Yeah. Good. Be well, Raoul."

"You too. I love you."

He waited for a response and I swallowed hard. For lack of courage, I enacted the tried and true avoidance trick.

"Raoul?"

"Yes?"

"Raoul, I can't hear you."

"Christine, I'm right here."

Oh, how my heart hurt! I was such a terrible person.

"Raoul? Raoul?"

"Christine? I must be going through another dead zone… Christine?"

"Raoul?" Then I audibly sighed and clicked off. I listened the silence around me and let the tears drip from my eyes. I wished I had the courage to let him off and not hurt him like I was… what was it that was holding me back? Was I jealous of another woman who would take him? I knew that I cared for him, but I didn't love him. I twirled his ring around on my necklace and frowned at the table. Was he safer? Maybe that's why I clinged to him… because I could trust him to be predictable…

And, I remembered only a few minutes later, he belonged to only me.

Because after lunch, Nadir and Erik returned to the trailer. I had to count the number of bodies coming through the door at least four times until my mind accepted the simple fact that there were three people. Nadir, Erik, and _her_.

My blood bubbled and I clenched my teeth. I gripped my pencil tightly and began to make thick, dark lines across the paper we would be using.

"Christine!" My ears cringed and I let out a slow, angry breath, willing myself not to yell or scream.

"Christine, how delightful to see you again!"

I turned very gradually, my eyes first alighting upon Nadir, who gave me an apologetic look. I now thought about his words to me this morning, and saw the connection. Obviously she wasn't my fault… my gaze fell upon Erik, who stood tall and grim behind her. Was it not his fault? Nadir had said it wasn't…

I finally looked at her, plastering a sickly sweet smile on my face.

"Miss Carla, the pleasure is mine." In a moment of sarcastic hatred, I gestured kindly towards my chair. "Would you like to sit, Miss?"

"Why, thank you, you are so kind!" She smiled brightly at me, and her eyes burned with the kind of dull evil I imagined Satan to have. "But I must decline. I'm sure Mr. Destler would rather that I-"

"Oh, I wouldn't hear of it, Miss Carla! No, you must take my seat. I insist!"

Carla finally acquiesced and I pulled out the chair for her, acting the ideal hostess. I seated myself beside Nadir and dragged the papers from Carla towards myself.

Then I trained my gaze directly on Nadir and said, "Would Mr. Destler mind if I took these over to Jack in the living room area? He called while you were out and asked a few questions."

Nadir looked back at me despairingly. I suppressed the urge to glare at him, too. I knew that of all people, it wasn't _his _fault. I felt a hand on my arm and snapped around to look at the offending man, who had sat, not in his normal seat at the head of the table, but directly next to me. For him I did not spare my glare.

He looked hurt and I had to fight to keep myself angry with him. It wasn't like I had forgotten Carla; I had just previously pushed her from my mind. But it was impossible to do with her sitting there!

"I will go then," I said icily, "if you agree."

"Perhaps I should come with you."

"No. You need to stay here. Remember? You said you were going to oversee construction. Well, Mr. Bays is due here in ten minutes with his report, and you should be here to receive it."

"No," he argued, now angry that his words had been thrown back at him. "I should go with you to explain. I know more about the design than you do and Jack needs technical advice-"

"You should stay here, Mr. Destler." I said emphatically. "You are needed here."

"I am needed on the site."

We were locked in each other's gaze in a stubborn fight for control of the situation. I could suddenly hear his voice by my ear, soft and inviting, calling my name. But his lips weren't moving! I swayed slightly, breaking eye contact and shaking my head, trying to rid it of the sound of his voice. It wasn't fair to win like that…

"Nadir, Miss Daae and I will be right back. Can you attend to the-"

"You must let me come with you!" Carla said suddenly. "It would be so exciting to see the two of you in action on the field!"

I suppressed a groan. I had wanted to be alone, away from all of them! And now this! I stood up abruptly and pushed my chair in rather roughly.

"Yes, you must certainly come, Miss Carla. It will be an education. And now, if you please, Mr. Destler, we must be going. Jack will be waiting."

I felt Erik watching me and I wanted to push him away… or fall into his arms… anything to make it stop!

The fresh air of the breeze that hit my face once we were outside was refreshing. I took a deep breath.

"Where is Jack?" Erik asked from behind me. I didn't turn back to look at him.

My problem was that Jack had never actually called. If it had been only Erik I could have made something else up, but now that I had made the big deal, I couldn't let Carla see me in defeat.

"He is in the living room area, like I said. Although he may have moved by now…" I figured that gave me enough leeway. I was ahead, so if I saw him I could speak to him quickly and try to save face.

I stopped suddenly, remembering that Jack didn't even work on Wednesdays. Surely Erik must have known this as well. He kept immaculate records on all of the employees.

"Um…"

"What is it?" Carla asked cheerfully. "Have you lost your way?"

I clenched my fist and turned towards my right so I wouldn't have to look at her. Erik stepped closer to me and I could see in his eyes that he knew my lie, and was confused by it.

"I just remembered," I began unevenly, "that Jack said he would be in the…" A sudden burst of inspiration hit me. "…music room."

Erik's eyes widened and Carla stepped partly between us, so we formed a triangle.

"So we will go to the music room? That is delightful. In what direction is it?"

Erik stared at me. He knew also that there was no music room in this household.

"The music room is a hard hat area." He cleared his throat. I watched his eyes as he watched mine. Both of us were now speaking in metaphors, and I tried to interpret his words.

"Yes." I agreed. "It can be… dangerous. I don't think you should be in there, Miss Carla."

"Miss Daae is right. It wouldn't be safe for you there."

Carla was not as stupid as I liked to assume; she sensed that we were hiding something. She didn't like the fact that we were staring at each other.

"It doesn't sound like it is safe for any of us. I think we should return now."

"Yes," I said quietly. "Yes, we should return." I started to do just that when I heard Carla call my name. Overly irritated, I again turned to face her.

She had taken Erik into her arms and was kissing him squarely on the lips. I sighed. My heart had taken a rough beating these past few days. My throat felt heavy and I just wanted to be home, alone, away from the world and all of its cruelties. Tears began to collect and glitter in my eyes and I stared at the ground, waiting for her to finish her silent torture. Women knew how to hurt each other more effectively than armies of men…

She was apparently satisfied, for she took his hand and began walking past me, smirking. I ran my fingers through my hair and turned back to look at the beginnings of the house. It was small and looked forlorn now that all the workers had taken a break, but I believed in it… it would survive, despite everything…

* * *

I thought for a few seconds about not attending my music lesson, but the sheer depression the thought laid over me convinced me otherwise.

As I ascended the stairs yet again, I wondered what I would find behind the door. Would he come begging for my forgiveness as he had last time? I didn't know if I preferred that to us just forgetting about it. I could easily recreate reality for myself, a reality in which there was no Carla. I had been doing it all my life; there was still a part of my mind that chose to believe that I was not deformed, and that Papa was still alive, only away on some vacation…

When I opened the door, Erik was not sitting at the piano, but was perched on the windowsill, staring out into the moonlight. I sighed loudly, alerting him to my presence, and closed the door.

He did not turn.

"I have always thought that the ocean was a very magical thing. Did you ever think that, Christine?"

I shrugged, even though he could not see me.

He trailed his fingers down the luxurious velvet red curtains.

"I have also always known that singing and stress do not mix." Erik look twisted his head to look at me. "Would you like to go out on the beach?"

"Now?" I asked. My soul and heart screamed _yes!_ but my mind was against it. I didn't want the memory of Carla to disrupt what I had with him in the music room. Changing our usual music schedule meant that something was wrong, and I refused to admit that it was.

"Yes. We can sing afterwards. I would never take time away from your singing. But I'd like you to relax a little bit first."

I swallowed my tart response, that it was his fault I was so tense, and instead nodded stonily.

"Fine. But not too long. I have to do some things at six."

He looked at me sharply but did not reply. Instead he rose gracefully and caused my heart to beat faster as he approached. Oh, I hated him! He took my hand and began to lead me down the stairs and I hated him because I loved him so much.

Once we were in the cool night air I disentangled my hand from his and walked a few paces ahead of him. All day I had been craving solitude. I figured this was the closest I was going to get.

We reached the sand and he laid a hand on my shoulder.

"Here," he said, guiding me over to a little shadowed spot by the dunes. "Let's just sit here for a moment or two."

I wanted to cry at his kindest as I recalled last night. It had been so romantic and intimate… _Oh, Erik…_

"What is it you wanted to say to me?" I asked after a stretch of silence.

"What do you mean?"

"You must have taken me out here for a reason."

"I wanted you to-"

"Relax. Yeah, I know." His earnest tone infuriated me. I wanted truth!

"You sound so angry, Christine." He observed bemusedly.

"Are you saying I don't have a right to be?" I challenged him with my eyes and he twisted his body to face me fully.

"I wish you wouldn't be, is all I am saying."

"But- answer me! Don't I have a right to be?"

Erik did not answer. Watching me intently, he began tracing lines up and down my forearm. My eyes drifted closed.

"Stop," I whispered. I was suddenly close to tears. "Erik, please…" I tingled all over.

He dropped my arm and drew me into a half hug.

"Christine, you only have a right to be angry when you know the whole truth. And I cannot tell you everything."

"Why?" I whined, even while nestling my head into his shoulder. "Why? I want to know!"

"I know…"

"If you are dating her why don't you just say something and make it less awkward for me?" I asked finally. "And, if you are dating her-" I tried to pull away from him but his grip had tightened like a metal clamp and he held me fast.

"Is that what you thought?" He asked incredulously, lifting my face to look at me. "That we were dating?"

I succeeded in pushing him away and stared out at the waves angrily. "Well I don't know about you, _Mr. Destler_, but most people don't go around making out with people they're not dating!"

Erik stared at me and finally I heard a soft chuckle escape his mouth. He was laughing at me! I couldn't believe it! I was going to murder this man!

"Erik…!"

He sobered at my tone and took my shoulders in hand.

"Christine," he said seriously, "I am not in a relationship with Carla."

"Then what the heck-" He cut me off and laid a finger on my lips.

"I know what it looks like, but I need you to trust me when I say that I do not love her and we are not in a romantic relationship. There are some things that you cannot understand."

"Oh, _try me_, Erik, I've seen a lot in my time!"

He nearly growled. I felt the rumbling deep in his chest, as he was holding me so close.

"It was a matter of staying alive, Christine, so that I could keep a promise to your father."

I scoffed. "Are you telling me that my father made you promise to sell yourself to some harlot from Ir-"

"No, no! You are not listening to me! Carla saved my life."

"So naturally you owe her something! I understand completely."

"Damn it, Christine! If you only knew what I went through for you! That vile women is my curse- my constant reminder of what I sacrificed, for you!"

"Really?" I inquired sarcastically, "So what did you do? Rob a bank, murder someone?"

His eyes darkened considerably and he fell into a black silence. I was suddenly frightened_. What had he done?_

"Murderers don't deserve to live; don't you agree, Christine?"

I blinked, my mind crazed with fear at his icy tone. My breathing was shallow and uneven.

"I- I don't know, Erik-"

Erik didn't like my answer. His tone darkened. "I will be rid of Carla one day," he vowed. "You needn't worry about her. She thinks she has a hold over me…"

"But doesn't she?" I whispered, needing to know, despite my lingering fear of him.

"No." His gaze burned through me like fire. "Only one person has a hold on me, a hold like iron, like silver cord; a hold that can never be relinquished, so long as my heart beats…"

"And Carla… is not that person." I wanted that person to be me. I wanted it so bad that I began to cry. What if there was already another in his life, someone I couldn't begin to compare to? Wouldn't he have just told me if he loved me?

"No." He traced a finger down my face and I imagined for the moment that he did love me. "Christine… I must continue this pretense with her if I wish to survive. She holds my life in her hands and if I enrage her she will not hesitate to kill me, and you, too."

"Me?" I asked.

"Yes."

"Why me?"

"Because you are my angel, and she knows it."

"I don't understand, Erik."

"Perhaps you will, in time."

I stared at him.

"Sing something for me," I pleaded.

"As you wish." He scooped me up into his arms and sang quietly the whole way back to the music room. We commenced with the lesson.

He helped me with a piece I had been having extensive problems with and when we were done the feeling of accomplishment was exhilarating. I sat next to him and sighed, allowing the music to soothe my body.

"Do you forgive me, Christine?"

I looked up at his troubled tone and saw that he was gazing steadily at the piano, running his fingers along the keys.

"For Carla?"

"For… everything."

I didn't even have to think about it.

"Of course I do, Erik." I still loved him. Was that the thing with love? There was not a thing he could do that would cease my love for him. I still wanted to press myself close and listen to his heartbeat and his soft breathing. I still wanted to talk with him for hours and know every corner of his mind. I still wanted to marry him and be with him for the rest of my life… when I began to cry he took me into his arms and rocked me back and forth.

He whispered to me in French and I pretended that he was telling me that he loved me…

* * *

When I got home, Meg was chatting away on the phone. I sighed and made my way into the kitchen to make some tea.

Meg finished a few minutes later and joined me at the table.

"That was Raoul." She said and I was genuinely surprised.

"Oh… did I miss him? I thought he'd call my cell."

"No, you didn't miss him. We talk sometimes. He's a great guy."

"Yeah, I know…" I eyed her and she placed a kiss on my forehead.

"He really loves you, Christine. I just want to see him happy."

I didn't understand her words and I was too tired to contemplate them too deeply.

"Me too," was all I said, continuing to sip my tea. She charged upstairs and returned some time later. She announced that she was going out with Nathan and I waved her away, wishing her a good night.

Raoul called a while later, and when we hung up, I took a hot shower and let my tears mix with the water.

I wanted to understand life. Was that too much to ask? I wanted to know why everything was so complicated and why I couldn't have Erik.

I wanted to know why I didn't have the courage to break up with Raoul and let him be happy with someone who deserved him. In the end, I knew Meg was wrong. _I _wasn't going to break someone's heart. The two men I loved, Raoul as a brother and Erik as something much, much deeper… they would be fine without me. My heart was going to end up broken. Even if I forgave Erik, I still didn't understand. Why couldn't Carla just go away? I knew it was a childish thing to think but it is what I really felt. She had saved his life…

I shuddered. I had read stories and seen movies about people sleeping around to save their lives in dangerous situations, but… Erik? My Erik?

If it was true, did it make me think any less of him, love him any less?

No… because underneath it all I was still glad that he was alive. I was happy to love him and have him nearby, even for those few, short and blissful hours in the music room…

**I started off really liking this chapter, but then I began to dislike it. I kept asking myself what the purpose of the chapter was. Of course there **_**was**_** a purpose, or obviously I wouldn't post it. But… ugh! It smells like a filler chapter, and I hate filler chapters! There were important things in here, like Christine and Erik finally dealing with the Carla issue, and a bunch of other important lines and tidbits of information that I hoped you picked up… but it was so long because I felt like if I kept writing maybe it would get better.**

**I hope you don't all hate this chapter. I really like the lake scene with Erik and Christine. But overall my writing felt off. I'm going to post this chapter now (11/2/08- that date thing really helped me get this up faster!) and I hope it is not a mistake. I hope you guys really enjoy this!**

**Did you find Christine's reactions believable? Is she just stupid that she does not see Erik's love? Is her reaction to the Carla thing believable? I'd love feedback… whatever you've got!**

_**Again, I sincerely hope you enjoy this chapter and stick with the story.**_** I'll try to improve soon, because the next big avalanche is coming in a few chapters… maybe even two, if I get sick enough of filler chapters (sadly, the next chapter is also kind of a filler chapter, even though there are some very important things that happen) **

**So… be well and happy reading! Please, please enjoy this! (And in the next chapter I give credit for those two songs I used. I changed a lyric in Tubas in the Moongliht... just so I don't get sued...)**

**Thank you so much,**

**Your (hesitant to call herself) authoress,**

**~IceCliff**


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 14 is growing on me, although I've been brooding over it all day. (11/3/08). But you guys seemed to tolerate it, so… thank you. I hope this will be a better chapter. I've planned it all out and Chapter 17 (or 16 or 18 depending on how I space things out) should contain the next big THING. So… watch for it… everything is building up. Not to be trite, but, "the plot thickens…"**

**As usual, thank you so much for reviewing!**

**Lady Wen: I was glad to see your name on the review list. Your reviews are always insightful and I enjoy them. Thank you for reading. Well… I'm sure you realize that Christine couldn't just pull him in by the collar, even if she should (and she should!) and even if she wants to. I didn't want to make her too dense… I'm sorry if she really irritates you. I think around chapter 18 I've given her some backbone, but that's only after something happens that wakes her up. Not only is it convenient to my plotline that she be passive and indecisive, but I think it is also somewhat within character. Anyway, happy reading!**

**Terbear: As always, thank you for reviewing. Ah, I'm glad you caught Meg's… unusual behavior. It has a purpose, most definitely. I suppose Erik is horrified, but you have to see if from his perspective: he knows why Carla is there and why he can't just be rid of her. He knows that she saved his life and they had the agreement and all that stuff… He wouldn't be thinking that way about Christine because the relationship with Carla was so foreign and repulsive to him that he does not connect it with normal life. Further, Erik has so many secrets that he keeps from Christine that this is just one more on the pile, nothing to be especially horrified about.**

**Captain Ichabod Rainey: Thank you so much for enjoying that chapter. Honestly, you do a lot to encourage this story along. A lot of people seem to want a kiss, so I shall think it over and see what I can arrange… ;) **

**So… Chapter 15. The Unter den Linden is a huge boulevard in Berlin. **

_The man followed them down the Unter den Linden. Germany was the last place he had expected to visit, but the three men he now trailed dictated his plans. They approached the Bebelplatz, and the man groaned angrily, tightened his dark coat around his chin, and stole away into the shadows. He could not in his present state simply walk into the middle of a public thoroughfare like the Bebelplatz. On the street, at least, he could blend in with the crowds, but in broad daylight such an open space would not suit him._

_Erik dashed towards the Schlossbrücke Bridge and hid himself casually in the shadows cast by Pallas Athene's statue towering above. He could just imagine the immense beauty of the State Opera House in the Bebelplatz and he clenched his teeth at the thought of those men even daring to approach the building. He had tracked them across Mexico and into England, and he would follow them through Germany and to any other place they might fancy. They would not escape him. They would not escape retribution. He need only be patient._

_And ho! Here the three bumbling fools came striding up the bridge like they owned the world. Erik sneered at the self- satisfaction they must have felt, thinking they were so safe. They were anything but safe._

_They thought that they had no shadows. Well, everyone had a shadow. Some people, like a darling beautiful girl that Erik held in his heart, had peaceful shadows. These men… these men had better watch that their shadow didn't take a knife to their backs._

When I got home from work the next day, I found Meg once again chatting away on the phone. I hadn't gotten a chance to ask her about her date with Nathan, and I wondered vaguely how it had gone. If she was talking on the phone with him, it was probably a positive thing.

I gave Shadow a bath and cleaned up a few things around the house. I had about an hour before my lesson, and I had nothing at all to do. I hated feeling so useless. Creeping down the stairs so as to not disturb Meg, I slinked into the kitchen and made myself some tea. I had taken to drinking tea lately; it was extremely calming. The chairs, normally so uncomfortable, looked uncommonly inviting, and I sat down in one, stretching my legs about before me and closing my eyes. The day hadn't been so bad, really. Carla had made herself scarce, and I relished in the fact that Erik had been so kind and attentive to me. I wondered if he had said something to her.

I sipped my tea, letting the warm liquid drip down my throat, and my ears slowly picked up on Meg's conversation in the other room. I certainly hadn't meant to eavesdrop. I started to leave, but her words suddenly interested me and I found myself rooted to the spot. When had I ever heard Meg, _Meg _who was scared of commitment, talk about love to a boyfriend? Had she and Nathan gotten so serious, so soon?

There was a peal of laughter.

"You're so silly sometimes," she said. "How can you miss it when someone loves you this much?"

I swallowed. Meg was getting way in over her head! She had only started talking about Nathan in the last few days. Had she been seeing him before that, when I was so wrapped up with Erik and Raoul? Maybe I was just a terrible friend…

"_Yes_, yes, I tell you, it is true. Stop asking me." She paused. "_Yes_! My G-d, you are worse than my mother. It's love."

Love… I sighed. Maybe that was why she had been so happy lately, so optimistic about life. Love does things like that to you…

"I'm certain. Feelings like this only come about once in a lifetime! I've never-"

Meg sighed, but it was a dreamy, romantic kind of sigh.

"That would be so beautiful! And you say you are not creative. No other guy would do something like that… what, now? I can't do that now… yes, soon. Whenever you are able, go for it. I promise you everything will work out perfectly. You are too blind to see it, because you are in love too. I've never felt such a deep love in my life!"

I blushed heavily and drained my cup quickly. I rinsed it out in the sink and quickly ran upstairs. _Meg, Meg, what are you doing?_ Was she being too rash? Should I speak to her about it? How could she be in love with someone she didn't even know?

Then again, I didn't know Erik that well…

But it was different! It was always different with Erik because he was _my_ Erik, my father's Erik…

I couldn't be sure that she'd listen to me. After all, I was having enough romantic trouble myself; if she had found love, then who was I to meddle with it? Better that she should be happy!

I sighed and brushed my fingers through my hair. My bookcase beckoned to me, and with ample time still left before I had to leave, I plucked a book from the top shelf and settled onto my bed. _Hamlet_. I hadn't read it in a while, but I had always loved and identified with poor young Hamlet. To have lost his father in such an awful way…

I perused the first few scenes. Lines jumped out at me.

_Frailty, thy name is woman!_

I read: _Frailty, thy name is Christine!_

* * *

My music lesson went well that day, despite my qualms about love a few hours prior. Every problem was left at the door of the music room. Nothing negative was allowed through those pearly gates. Only peace and wellness. In fact, things during the entire next week could all be considered "well" or "good." Nothing particularly fascinating happened, but then again, I needed the quiet peace. Erik and I were calm and perfect. He was sweet and tender and we sang until we swooned away with delight. As construction on the house progressed, I was able to tell Meg that my often later-than-planned nights were spent at the trailer.

Raoul called often, and I found reasons to continue to shorten our conversations. As the first week of his absence came to a close, in all of its peacefulness, I began to build the resolve I would need to tell Raoul the truth about everything, as soon as he got home. I would not wait and I would not be distracted by his sadness, cuteness, love, or any other endearing trait. I would hurt him now to save him later. I had to put any tender feelings for him aside. I had decided to give myself wholly to Erik, whether he would have me or not. I could not love Raoul as much as I loved Erik and Raoul deserved to be loved in that special way.

As that serene week ended and the week of Raoul's return commenced, I wished that I had had the presence of mind to appreciate the calm while it lasted. I wished that I hadn't been so blinded by love to see what was directly in front of me. I wished I had more courage and strength. I wished that my father hadn't died before he had a chance to tell me everything, and I wished that he hadn't put my future in someone else's hands. Most of all, I wished that I could rewind time and pause it, so that Erik and I could be serenely together in one moment of bliss forever, before I knew everything…

People say that "a lot can happen in a week." Do not underestimate them.

* * *

It was Sunday afternoon. Keep a track of the days, for it has a bearing on my story. I was lounging in my room, playing with Shadow. I was not yet too old to find pleasure in playing with animals. It is true that some parts of my personality may be considered too cynical for such a pastime, but Shadow's innocent happiness appealed to some naïve part of myself that yearned for such purity of mind and spirit. Shadow was my dearest friend, and at one time was the one thing I had loved most in the world.

My phone rang, and as I saw the name and felt the familiar uplifting of my heart, I accepted that someone else had outdone Shadow in my heart.

"Hello."

"Hello, my dear. How do I find you?"

"Very well." Shadow barked, and I smiled. I had a sudden image of Shadow, Erik, and myself all sitting on a porch of a house, watching the sunset. I was content to remain in that daydream forever.

"You sound tired," he commented concernedly.

"I'm just happy." I countered.

I could hear the smile in his voice. "I'm delighted to hear you say that. How have you spent your day?"

"Lazily. And you?"

Erik cleared his throat. "Well enough, I suppose."

"What did you do today?"

There was a brief silence on the other line and I waited for the smooth honey of his voice to caress my heart. I wonder now why I didn't find his hesitancy odd. I was too caught up in the unique tenderness I saw in him that day… but if I had only known the cause of that warmth!

"I thought of you," he said simply.

_I thought of you, too_. I sighed and fell back against my bed, staring up at my ceiling and imaging his eyes. I loved him. I wanted him to love me. I wanted to hear those words come out of his mouth more than anything in the world.

The past week had been heaven with him. If he didn't love me, with the way that he treated me, then the women he did love was the absolute luckiest lady on the planet. She must have been an empress, because he treated me like nothing less than a queen.

"Christine…"

"Yes?"

He paused.

"Erik?"

"I want to see you."

My breath caught. I wanted nothing more than to see him!

"I'm free all day," I offered, smiling.

"I want to see you tonight."

"We have our music lesson." I reminded him.

He paused again. "May I take you out to dinner?"

I sat straight up and reminded myself to count to ten before answering, lest I sound the over-eager lover that I was.

"Yes, Erik, I'd love that."

"Excellent." He let out a breath. "I'd like to see you soon. May we schedule an early dinner, and then perhaps the lesson?"

"Yes. How about five thirty?"

"Wonderful. May I pick you up?"

"Uh-" I could not find a polite way to explain that no, he couldn't pick me up, because Meg would gladly shoot his head off. I was not supposed to be seeing him anymore. "How about I meet you at the Opera House?"

"All right," he said softly. "I'll be there at half past. I'll see you then, my darling."

"Bye."

I closed my phone and gripped my hands to keep from giggling. I was so excited to see him. Any date with Erik was exotic and romantic… and overall, _angelic._ I loved him.

I nearly skipped across the room to take a shower.

* * *

Meg was chatting on the phone when I left, so I didn't have to come up with any excuses. I drove my car to the Opera House and sang along with the radio as I went. My phone rang, and I picked it up without looking at the number.

"Christine?"

I was surprised to hear Nadir's voice on the other line. He hardly ever called me now, even for business. It was only Erik.

"Nadir," I said happily. Nadir reminded me of Erik, and that alone made me blissful. "How are you? I was-"

Nadir cut me off. He was not in the mood for pleasantries.

"Are you with Erik?" He asked sharply.

I blinked, and then turned off the radio.

"Why?" I asked warily, my happiness cooling.

"Are you with him?" He repeated quickly. "Have you seen him?"

"Erik just called me," I offered. I pulled into the Opera House parking lot and saw Erik's black car waiting for me. My heart jumped in anticipation and I began undoing my seatbelt, my eyes glues to his car.

"What did he say?"

"Just the usual," I shrugged to myself. "Nadir, this is a very strange conversation. What occurs between Erik and myself is strictly our business." I gathered my things from the passenger seat

"Christine, I _must _know-"

"I'm sorry, Nadir, but I have to go now. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Christine, don't-"

"Goodbye."

"Don't-"

I hung up my phone, stared at it for a second, and then left it in my glove compartment. I didn't want any other distractions tonight. I wanted to be with Erik.

Nadir tended to get worked up over things that weren't at all important, in the long run. He probably just found a glitch in the employees' schedule for Wednesday that he needed to discuss with Erik. We could deal with it tomorrow.

I strode over towards Erik's car in greedy anticipation of his presence and the sound of his voice. He emerged from the car to open the passenger door for me. Once I was comfortably in the car, Erik asked how I was, and we chatted about the construction and the pleasant weather. I trailed off after a while, watching the scenery go by. I was sure I had never taken this route before. Erik turned onto a small, windy road that hugged the ocean on one side and a mountain on the other. As we climbed up and around the mountain and I watched the ocean water fall away from us, I felt like we were ascending into heaven. I saw unfamiliar street signs ahead of me.

"Where are we going?" I asked finally.

Erik did not answer. Instead, he hummed a small tune. We turned another corner and I repeated my question about five minutes later.

Erik smiled gently.

"My curious beauty, we are going to dinner, as I promised you. Promises are very important. Never break a promise."

"I _know _that, but _where_ are we going to dinner?"

Erik chuckled. "You will soon see."

We ascended and ascended, and the sky seemed to descend and descend until we were one with the dark blue and the sun had fallen beneath us and we were on top of the world. It was a dizzying sensation. I stepped out of the car and dared to look down from the top of the cliff. Erik caught my waist gently and pulled me away from the edge.

"Don't go so close, my dear. You frighten me."

"I just wanted to see how far up we've gone." I protested, although I enjoyed his touch.

"We've gone quite high. The view will make you faint."

Of course, I should have assumed that he knew of my fear of heights. I smiled at him, and then nestled myself into his arms by stretching an arm across his back and resting my head on his chest. He lifted my chin with one hand.

"Look around you, Christine."

I followed his command and raised my eyes. I couldn't suppress a loving smile. The restaurant was gorgeous. It was set at the very top of the hill, snuggled into a fold in the mountain, away from the normal hustle-bustle of town. One could hear clearly the wind and the crashing ocean far beneath us. The sky was darkening, and the restaurant glowed with small tree lights and a roaring fireplace. The building was made out of logs, and the fire made it appear a beautiful golden brown.

"Oh, it's perfect!"

"I've make a reservation for five thirty," he said, smiling. "Shall we go in?"

"Yes."

We walked to our table arm in arm. The restaurant was delightful, and the food was delicious. I hummed along with their music, and Erik nodded.

"I'm glad to see that you like it."

"This is so nice, Erik."

"I'm glad," he repeated. He looked off into the distance, outside of our window, and I stared at his profile. We had been discussing nothing in particular over dinner, just tidbits. I loved that he had wanted to take me out at all, and that he would be thoughtful enough to take me to a place so charming. I had felt so comfortable with him all evening, just sitting and talking and laughing with him.

He suddenly whipped his gaze back to mine, and I found myself paralyzed by his eyes. What was I seeing in them now? Before I could decide, an iron curtain closed down over his emotions and he looked down, towards his plate. Something seemed to have disturbed him about his meal, because he pushed it slightly away from him and shifted closer to the window.

"Are you not hungry?" I asked, surprising myself. I didn't necessarily want to alert him to the fact that I was an experienced eye-stalker.

Erik seemed surprised by my question as well. He shrugged, meeting my eyes for a second. It was I who broke contact this time. I couldn't bear that dead look in his eyes!

"I don't eat as often as others," he said simply.

I needed to break him out of this awkward silence. I reached across the table and grabbed his hand. _This_ caught his attention, and his iron curtain fell away and I saw a painful fear lodged in his eyes. What could he possibly be afraid of?

I was sure I could have gotten something out of him, too, but I was interrupted.

"May I get you any desserts?"

I sighed, and Erik politely declined and asked for our check. After we paid, Erik seemed to have moved out of whatever gloom he had been in. He led me by hand towards the rocks behind the restaurant, which sat aside a little man-made lake. It sparkled in the moonlight, and I remembered the last time Erik and I had sat beside a lake. The memory made me smile.

We sat on a flat rock and Erik pulled me close to him. I rested my head on his shoulder.

"I wish I had my violin with me now," he said. "I'd play for you all night. _Je jouerais seulement pour vous, pour le reste d'à jamais._"

I smiled. "Will you tell me what you said?"

"Maybe one day."

I sat up and looked into his eyes, putting both of my hands on his shoulders. I wanted to sit with him for eternity- did he not know it? He traced my cheek with his hand, and when I started to smile he pulled away quickly and averted his eyes. My brows furrowed in concern. It was the second time he had such a mood swing this night.

"Erik?" I asked softly. He glanced at me. "What's wrong?"

He shook his head. "Nothing is wrong, unless everything is wrong."

"Erik," I repeated softly. "I can't help you if you keep being evasive. Can you really not tell me anything, even a small something? I just want to help you."

"My dear Christine, all you need remember is that everything I do is for you."

I sighed. I could never get emotion of out him. In the darkness I could see his pale hand resting on his thigh. I covered his hand with my own, thinking to give him even a little of the comfort that he always seemed to give me. He quickly drew his hand away from mine.

"Erik-" I protested, feeling a little offended.

"_Comment pouvez-vous me toucher_?" He whispered venomously, almost to himself. He stood, and I titled my head up to watch him pace across the rocks. I wished I remembered even a little more of my French than yes and no. "_Comment pouvez-vous toucher un tel monstre, une telle créature comme je? J'ai tué aujourd'hui, Christine._" I recognized my name, and he fell to the rock beneath me and bowed his head. "_Si votre main angélique touche la mine,_" he whispered sadly, "_je vous souillerai à jamais_…"

"Erik…" I shook my head for a lack of understanding.

"And yet," he continued in English, "I still wish to make you mine, to hold you forever…"

I bit my lip and caught my breath at this revelation. Was this the speech he had been making in French? A speech of love? I barely dared to dream it! If it were not true I would be broken beyond repair.

I slid myself down to the rock beside him and gathered him into my arms.

"Erik," I said, nearly pleading with him. "Make me yours. Hold me forever, please…"

Erik's grip tightened around me and I could hear his breathing quicken as it tickled the small hairs around my ear.

"Do you mean it?" He asked quietly.

"More than I've ever meant anything. I promise."

"You promise," he repeated, sounded kind of dazed. "You promise… if you promise then it must be true… no one breaks a promise…"

He pulled just far enough away from me to look into my eyes.

"Christine," he whispered, his eyes swirling with unnamed emotions. I felt lightheaded and lovesick in his arms, like I might swoon at his next glance. "You are so beautiful, my angel…"

I locked my arms around his neck and rested my forehead against his. In the circle of his arms, I knew that nothing else existed. Just his eyes.

"Christine…"

"Erik…"

The tones of our voices mingled and swayed on the light breeze around us, encircling us and urging us closer. I closed my eyes and gently pressed my lips against his.

Every feeling I'd ever felt, every nerve, shot straight from my lips down through my fingertips and through my chest. I breathed in and felt his soft lips massage my own, felt his breath mingle with mine, and felt his hand as it caressed the back of my neck, beneath my hair. I knew I would faint if it continued for another second, just as I had felt that first time he had touched me, when we danced at the masquerade ball, and I felt his touch against the small of my back…

Suddenly his lips were no longer touching mine, but kissing my hair and the side of my cheek. He hugged me closer to him.

"_Take my hand_," he whispered, "_I'm a stranger in paradise. All lost in a wonderland… That's a danger in paradise, for mortals who stand beside an angel like you…"_  
His words brought tears to my eyes, and I took his hand gently and pressed it to my heart. He breathed in deeply.

"_Won't you answer the fervent prayer_," he asked, "_of a stranger in paradise? Don't send me in dark despair from all that I hunger for… but open your angel's arms to the stranger in paradise… and tell him that he need be… a stranger no more…"_

"You'll never be a stranger in my heart, Erik," I whispered. "You will always be my angel of music…" I tried unsuccessfully to suppress my tears. I loved him more than I could express.

"Christine, you are a gift… you have given me more than I could have ever hoped for, more than I deserved…"

_I love you, Erik_… I wanted to say the words, but something was stopping me, constricting me from speaking. I looked down and found it to be the small pendant that was pressing into my chest. A small ring on a chain that made an almost foreign word reverberate in my head. _Raoul…_

I disentangled myself from him momentarily, and as he watched, nearly motionless, I unclasped the necklace and let the ring fall into my palm.

"What is that?" He asked.

I considered my answer for a moment, and then let the ring roll from my fingers, across the tops of the rocks, and then down onto the surface of the lake, where it disappeared from view.

"Nothing. It was nothing."

Erik folded me into his arms.

"I could hold you like this forever and never let you go and be content for the rest of my life."

"I hope you will," I said softly.

"Do you promise?" He asked, sounding almost childlike.

"Yes. I promise."

* * *

The rest of Sunday night went like a dream. Needless to say, our music lesson went well into the night. I felt like I was swooning the whole time.

Monday morning found me in a ridiculously happy-go-lucky mood. I would get to see Erik! Really, he was the only thing that mattered to me anymore. I hummed all during breakfast, and Meg seemed just as radiant.

"How was your night, Christine?"

"It was brilliant!" I smiled over coffee. "You look pretty smug yourself. What did you do last night?"

"Oh, nothing…" she said with a wink.

I put my glass down, not liking the mischevious look on her face. Had she been out with Nathan last night? Again I remembered what an awful friend I had been. I hardly kept up with her life anymore.

"Meg?"

She giggled.

"_Meg_!"

"What?" She asked innocently.

I narrowed my eyes at her, trying to look threatening. "What _exactly_ did you do last night?"

She patted my hand. "Not to worry, mommy. Little Meggy didn't do anything wrong. She just did a favor for a few friends."

I wasn't convinced. "What kind of favors?"

"Chrissie! What kind of person do you think I am?"

I shrugged. "Sometimes it depends on how drunk you are."

Meg glared at me. She began clearing up the dishes. I sat, watching, and drank my coffee.

"Well, what _did_ you do last night?"

Meg shot me a playfully evil look across her shoulder.

"I can't tell you, it's x-rated."

I rolled my eyes. "All right, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to judge you. Please, Angel Meg, tell me what great deeds of loving kindness you performed last night."

Meg nearly squealed. She sat down at the table again and smiled blithely at me.

"Two of my friends are getting married!"

"Married?" I asked excitedly. Only having one friend meant that you didn't go to very many weddings. But I loved weddings. "Who?"

"Oh…" she waved it off, "just two of my really close friends."

"Who?"

"You'll see, Chrissie! They are so perfect for each other. And he's so nervous that she'll say no… but I know they're perfect!"

"So he hasn't asked her yet?" I leaned in, wanting to hear the news. This had to be the only thing that could have made this week any better.

Meg giggled. "No. But last night I went out and bought the ring for him. He placed the order online and I picked it up for him. He didn't want anyone to see him, in case word got around to her."

"That's so romantic! What does the ring look like?"

Meg and I squealed and giggled and gossiped about the couple for about half an hour, until we both acknowledged that it was time to leave. I hugged her on my way out. I hadn't felt like such a giggling teenager in a while, and it felt great. It was so nice to be able to relax a little and enjoy life as it came.

I arrived at work maybe fifteen minutes late, but it didn't seem to be much of a problem. Maybe it was just me in a ridiculously good mood, but everyone around me seemed jolly as well. I wanted to hug everyone I saw. I skipped up the stairs to the trailer and entered.

Nadir and Erik were having an intense, low conversation in Farsi that stopped abruptly once I entered. They both looked up at me. Erik's eyes were unreadable but soft as they met mine. I smiled. Carla was not present, and this made me even happier.

"'Morning!" I announced, taking my seat with a flourish. "How are you two today? Isn't it a beautiful day?"

Erik smiled back, but Nadir looked pale and tired. I offered him a cup of tea, and he declined, saying that he needed some fresh air.

I shrugged as he left.

"What's wrong with him?"

Erik's eyes were trained on the door through which Nadir had just left.

"Nadir sometimes likes to involve himself in matters in which he truly has no business. I used to call him Daroga…"

"What's that?"

Erik's eyes met mine, and his voice leveled out to a sweet lull.

"An old Persian police chief. His grandfather had been one. I think Nadir inherited some Sherlock Holmes trait from him. He always needs to _know_… but hasn't he finally figured out that _knowing_ is what destroys him, _every single time_?"

I could tell that Erik wasn't really talking to me anymore.

"Nadir called me yesterday." I put in. "He sounded really stressed out. What is he trying to find out?"

Erik mused over a few papers that were sitting in front of him.

"He's trying to discover the secret of the trap-door lover, the secret of the Opera Ghost."

"_What_? Erik, you're not making any sense." I tried to get him to look at me. "There's no Opera Ghost."

"No, my dear. There certainly is." Erik gave me a strange, eerie smile. "And the Opera Ghost knows that _all roads do not lead to Rome_." Erik began to laugh. "And everyone asks, _isn't it very hot here? The wall is quite hot! The wall is burning!_ And the Opera Ghost replies, _it is because of the forest . . . Why, didn't you see that it was an African forest?"_

"Erik-" I was beginning to wonder if he was playing or if he was trying to scare me. My heart beat faster at his haunting laughter and I felt it pound painfully in my chest. "I don't understand what you're saying…"

Erik's eyes morphed from an unnatural glowing to a cool, reassuring gold. He took my hand and began to caress it gently.

"I'm sorry, Christine. I didn't mean to frighten you." His voice was tugging at my brain cells, forcing them to believe him. "Sometimes I get lost in metaphors."

I tried not to let him calm me so easily but I failed. His touch was so nice.

"I… um…"

His eyes were nearly hypnotizing. "Christine," he said softly, liltingly… "Christine, do you remember last night? Last night with the lake, and the restaurant? And the music? You sang so beautifully last night." My eyes closed of their own accord. His voice was a staircase to heaven. "You will sing someday for the world, my dear. And everyone will hear your gorgeous voice, and you and Erik and will sing forever…_and no one will ever know, and no one will even turn around in the streets_…" I abandoned myself to the feel of his touch and the caress of his voice.

A few minutes passed, during which I varied between sleep and wakefulness, and then Nadir re-entered the trailer. Erik removed his hand from mine, and I blinked, trying to clear the fog from my mind. I hardly remembered what we had been talking about before Erik had started touching me.

Nadir's lips were set in a grim line. Seeing him suddenly made me think of Carla.

"Nadir, where is your lovely sister today?"

Nadir's eyes shot towards mine, and then settled on Erik.

"What do you mean?" I watched his profile harden considerably.

"Where is Carla?" I clarified. "Has she decided that she isn't cut out for construction?" I tied to keep a smile out of my voice. I'd like to never see her again.

I got no response. Instead, an odd silence settled between the two men as they gazed at each other levelly.

Finally, Nadir broke eye contact. He retrieved his briefcase from the shelf and turned to leave the trailer once again.

"I don't know where Carla is," he said. "Good day, Christine."

"You won't find an answer." Erik said as Nadir opened the door.

Nadir paused, and then looked over his shoulder. "Oh yes, my friend, I will." Nadir shut the door forcefully behind him. I blinked between the closed door and Erik's stone face.

"Erik-"

He wouldn't hear a word. As many times as I tried to redirect the conversation, he always brought it back to work. We managed to work steadily on the construction all day, and when we parted, I asked if we were still having a music lesson.

Erik looked at me like I was crazy. "Of course, my dear. Nothing interrupts music. Ever."

* * *

Raoul called me on my way home. He was excited about some surfing-related thing that I didn't understand. But I listened to him talk about it for a while until I got home.

"What have you been up to, Christine?"

I shrugged. "Just work, I guess."

"Yeah? I wish I could take you away from work, just for a few weeks. Have you all to myself."

I could hear the smile in his voice, and I swallowed. _Come on, Christine. Just do it!_

"Raoul, I-"

"Hmm?"

"I, uh…" I swallowed hard again. "There's something I need to talk to you about."

"All right."

"I mean, when you get home. As soon as you get home. It's important." I winced, but he went on cheerfully with the conversation, not seeming to infer properly from my words.

"All right. I've got something important to tell you, also. Actually, a few things that happened while I was out here."

"Oh, okay." I sighed; realizing that breaking up with him would be inordinately difficult. "Well, you first."

"No, it's really something I want to say face to face. We'll just wait. It's only a few more days. I'll be home on Friday."

"I know… I have to go do some things Raoul, but I'm glad you're having fun out there."

"Yeah, thanks. Listen, be well Christine, and I'll talk to you later."

"Okay."

"I love you, sweetie."

I paused. "I'll talk to you later, Raoul. Bye."

I hung up, knowing that I was an awful person, and not being able to come up with any justification for it.

At my music lesson, we turned to jazz. I was out of breath and not used to scatting. Erik was demanding, and he kept us working until I began to feel exhausted. When I finally sank down onto the piano bench, Erik cast an arm around my shoulders for support.

"When you sing for men you will triumph, and they will know that you have laid the music of heaven at their feet."

"I can't do it without you, Erik," I said, leaning against him.

"You won't ever be without me, Christine. You promised."

I listened to his voice reverberate through his chest.

"I promised that I wouldn't leave you. But do you promise never to leave me?"

"I've already promised that, dear Christine. I promised your father that I would protect you. And now I could never leave you, even if I wanted to."

"Do you want to?" I asked softly.

"No, silly dear," his voice was tender. "I couldn't live without you."

I mused on his sweet words. They made my heart swell. "What did you promise my father?"

"That I would never let anything harm you."

"What else did he ask of you?"

Erik tensed momentarily. I could feel it through his shirt. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, did he only want you to protect me, or were you supposed to teach me music as well?"

"Oh…" Erik relaxed again. "He just wanted me to be with you at all times. He said we would understand each other."

I nestled my head into his chest, feeling sleepy. I spoke without thinking.

"But you weren't always there, Erik. There were six years in which I never saw you."

"I kept my promise," he said, and his voice sounded dark. "I protected you. It was all for you. Always. I never broke I promise that I made."

I nodded, smiling. "My father must be so proud of us now, Erik, sitting here in each other's arms, remembering him."

Erik didn't reply, just began to stroke my hair.

I don't know what made me say it. "Where were you when he died?"

Erik's voice sounded hoarse, and his grip around my tightened ever so slightly.

"I was… where I needed to be."

"Did you see it happen?"

"I… saw what was necessary."

I was too tired to understand that he was evading my questions completely.

"I wonder what he would have told me, if I had been there… what he might have told you… I would have done anything he had asked…"

"Sleep, Christine… sleep my angel, and don't think on these matters any longer…"

I obeyed his voice and was lulled gently asleep by his singing. I didn't realize that the raindrops in my dream were really his tears.

* * *

** I'm evil. I'm terribly evil. Hee hee. I hope that all of you are as clueless as Christine! I hope that none of you connected the two wonderfully evil plot twists I've added in this chapter. Hee hee! Yay! I'm so excited to see this all unfold.**

** So, first, I'M SORRY I'M A TERIRBLE PERSON! I realize that it has been like nine months since I've updated. Again, I wrote this chapter, hated it, brooded over it for three months, and then finally deleted it all and rewrote it. I should really do stuff like that more often.**

** Second, I wrote this chapter sort of quickly. I really wanted to get it up. It may be really confusing. I'm not sure, because for me this chapter makes sense in the scheme of things and how it sets up everything else. But of course, you guys don't know the everything else. So, tell me if you are utterly confused!**

** I hope you liked this chapter. I sort of liked it. Yay. It was so evil. I'm excited. All of my characters are in for it! I'm glad we finally got a kiss. _Stranger in Paradise_ is a song from the musical_ Kismet_. I love it.**

** So, happy reading! I'm sorry this chapter was kind of short. But it was so important! Remember your italicized parts and INFER! I love you all! **

** ~IceCliff**


	16. Chapter 16

**Yay! Chapter 16! I'm so excited to be writing this one. Just one more chapter until everything crashes and burns and swirls into oblivion! I can't wait! ;)**

**That's not to say that this chapter doesn't have some important catastrophes… but I feel like this story may be easily split into two separate time frames: the time BEFORE the events of chapters 17/18, and the time AFTER those events. This story will drastically change, and I think it will greatly surprise all of you. I. CAN'T. WAIT.**

**Terbear: You've picked up on something. That's all I'm going to say. :) Thank you so much for tolerating my failure as an authoress and keeping with my story. Your reviews mean so much! :)**

**Lady Wen: You'll see in the next chapter. It's not exactly that she's agreed to see him alone… as we know, Raoul can be a little strong headed when he wants to be… imagine the scene in the 2004 movie with the graveyard and Raoul (on a WHITE HORSE, no less) going, "Wait, Christine! Whatever you may believe, this man, this thing, is NOT your father!" when obviously she knows it is not her father… Raoul chooses to believe what he wants to believe. Let's keep it at that and then you'll understand what happens in chapter 17. As for Erik… I love him. When you understand everything that has happened, maybe his creepiness will make sense. But I love that you're still with the story. Thanks so much for your review and I hope to please you! Happy Reading! :)**

**Captain Ichabod Rainey: You're perfectly welcome. :) It was actually incredibly useful to the storyline. The funny this is that I wasn't even thinking about a kiss until you mentioned it, and then it just made perfect sense. So, thanks a lot! :) Thanks for staying with my story!**

**Debkay: Woooww your review was incredible. Thank you so, so much. You don't even know- it was a huge confidence booster. I hope this chapter satisfies! I try so hard to please you guys. I think I'll keep you guessing on those two points… :) I was touched that you reviewed twice. I try to intrigue… I didn't even mean for the story to be that mysterious, but things kept building up, and Erik has sooo much to explain, as you shall shortly see. So, I hope that you continue to enjoy! Happy reading!**

**ACE Albert: Honestly, I couldn't tell you the first thing about how PMs work. I've got no clue. Sorry about that. Thanks so much for the review. Yes, we do wonder what Nadir has dug up, don't we? :) Erik is going to get a bit more Erik-y in the coming chapters. Leroux style. You're welcome. Thanks for reviewing again! Thanks for being a loyal reader. It means a lot. Please, enjoy this chapter and feel free to leave me more concrit if you have any! Happy Reading! :)**

**Yay!! **

**Okay, sorry. Remember to keep track of the days. It'll help you piece things together later. Here's Chapter 16 for your reading pleasure! Review if you get the chance! Thanks!**

_Erik had a headache. He sat down in the small wooden chair next to the wall and rubbed his temples. She was always screaming, still screaming! Why wouldn't she be quiet? What more was there for him to do in order to silence her? Erik left the room and shut the door, pacing around in the foyer. Under normal circumstances, he never would have stayed for the end. But in this case he had to be absolutely sure that everything was neatly tied up and explained._

_Everything had to be swept away and never spoken of again. He was the only one that knew, and it had to stay that way. Curse Nadir if he tried to interfere this time. Curse Nadir and his sense of honor, his _conscience_. Erik never claimed to have a conscience and right now that trait was serving him very well. Everything would turn out well, as long as Nadir knew what was good for him and kept away._

_Everything would be well. It had to be well. Everything was for Christine. Erik would not be without Christine._

_The first time had been for Christine, and so would the last. He remembered it all, very clearly._

_The other man had been angry as he searched through Sir's papers._

_"Damn it! Damn it! Where is that damn girl? She has no relatives, no one!"_

_Erik watched him from the shadows. Very quietly, he whispered into the man's ear,_

_"No, Monsieur, but she has me."_

_The man jumped, pointing his gun at every possible corner of the room. The man's colleagues, the fools, thinking they could escape Erik, left the house, roaring away in their car. Erik advanced on the man who called himself Captain Ryan. The chase had begun. _

Tuesday morning Meg and I were lounging on the sofa, not wanting to go to work. I didn't have to be until about ten, but normally Meg went to the office at about 8:45.

"What's up?" I asked, dropping down onto the sofa next to her. "Skipping work?"

Meg smiled. Shadow jumped up onto her lap and she cuddled into his head.

"No, I just switched shifts with Katie. I didn't feel like going to work so early this morning. Late nights and early mornings don't work unless you have lots of coffee available."

"And Katie- what? Doesn't sleep at all?"

Meg shrugged. "She's been turning in early lately… she said she would be glad to take my shift."

"Why? She's such a partier."

"She _was_."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that Joe broke up with her and I've never seen her so depressed."

"Katie?" I blinked, trying to place Katie in my mind. She was such a sweet girl, such a young and pretty face. I felt for her. "Katie is the nicest person I know. I could never imagine her anything other than happy."

"Yeah, he really messed her up."

"That's awful."

Meg shrugged again. "That's man for you."

I frowned. Considering my circumstances, I wasn't really ready to condemn all men. Just some, maybe. Like Robert. I reached over Meg's lap for the remote and turned on the TV. We sat talking about nothing in particular, watching the news.

I sighed, stroking Shadow's fur, thinking about the past. Meg seemed to pick up on my brainwaves.

"Are you ever going to go back to New Hampshire?"

The question shocked me. Most of the time Meg knew never to bring up those kind of subjects.

I was startled into a silly, stumbling, "what?"

Meg shrugged innocently and pointed to the TV, where the weatherman was gesturing towards rain clouds over New England.

"Do you think you'd ever go back?"

I watched as the green blob moved over my home state, and squinted at the screen, trying to make the scene change. It did, eventually, and now the weatherman was talking about tornadoes in Kansas. I sighed and ran a hand through my hair.

"I don't know, Meg. I don't know why I would."

"Just to clear things up. To have closure."

"I have closure," I said, rather more harshly than I had intended. "My father is dead. Isn't that closure enough? There's nothing left for me there."

Meg patted my hand, and I resisted the urge to draw it away. Her eyes narrowed in concern.

"I'm sorry Chrissie. Didn't you have anyone you kept in contact with?"

"No." I said shortly. "No one wanted to be friends with the freak. I ran away, and they said good riddance. Didn't you know this all already?"

Meg winced. "You just up and left and never told anyone?"

I shifted uncomfortably. "Sort of."

"What do you mean?"

I had never told her this part, never mentioned it to anyone, and never thought about it anymore. It was too horrible. I shrugged, knowing that she would see my falsehood, and not caring.

I stood and brushed invisible dog hairs of off my lap. "I have to go and change. I think I'll go into work now."

Meg nearly groaned as I walked towards the hallway. "Christine, when are you going to trust me enough?"

I looked back at her, sorry that she had to be friends with someone like me, someone damaged, _deformed_.

"I don't trust anyone." I said darkly. "It's always easier that way."

"You trusted your father."

I blinked at the sudden onslaught of tears. I turned away from her.

"Yes," I admitted, "and you see where that's gotten me…" I nearly ran up the stairs to the refuge of my room and closed the door behind me. I flopped down onto my bed and stared straight up at my ceiling. Whatever goodness I had seen in that cracking white ceiling yesterday while I was on the phone with Erik was now gone. All I could see was loneliness, bleakness…

I remembered the precise circumstances under which I had left New Hampshire. Normally I am not that strong-willed, and normally I would have never left the place that reminded me of my dear father. But… it hadn't been safe there. Before I had moved to California I had spent a few weeks in Canada, hiding, trying to shake them off my trail. I had never felt safe my first two years in California, always looking over my shoulder, always expecting someone to come in the night…

I never told the police. It hadn't seemed practical. My first and only instinct was to run. That's why I accidentally took my father's old broken violin instead of his new one. I couldn't play, but I would have rather had his new one with all of its good memories than his broken one, with all of my memories of Robert and the permanent hole my father's death had left in my heart. But I ran so fast, I hardly even took two pairs of socks. I wasn't consciously thinking that far ahead. I just knew that I had to leave.

They came to my door at night. I was sitting at home, reading through some of my father's old papers. I was expecting the government to come and explain to me my new "situation." As a minor, and with my father specifying no one as his preference, the social service had to put me under someone's custody. It had been about a month after my father's death. When the doorbell rang, I wasn't at all suspicious.

The men at the door looked like nice, respectable government types. They all wore pressed dark suits and one carried a briefcase. I remember there were three of them. The first one introduced himself as Captain Ryan, of the police department. I didn't think to ask for a badge. I ushered them inside and they followed me into the living room.

"I was just looking at some of Papa's things-" I began to explain. I heard the door slam shut and when I turned to look Captain Ryan had dropped his briefcase and was pointing a gun at my forehead. I froze with fear, and the other two grabbed me from behind and forced me into a chair. I blinked twice, hard, to convince myself that it wasn't real, but every time I looked he was still there. My vision blurred with tears. I felt the men's grip on my arms tighten, but I couldn't muster the strength to move or care. I was going to die.

Was this the same way Papa had felt? Were these the same men?

My mouth started working of its own accord, spilling pleas and all sorts of other garbled appeals. One man finally clamped a hand over my mouth.

Captain Ryan began to advance on me, and I started to thrash, shaking as wildly as I could, trying to get the men off of me. I screamed obscenities that were muffled by the man's hand.

I thought about biting him, but then Captain Ryan was directly in front of me, and he said, in a deathly cold voice, "Enough."

The room was still as Captain Ryan spoke. Even remembering his voice gives me chills.

"Little Christine Daae, you are not supposed to be alive."

I felt my tears slowly fall down my cheek. I was suddenly so aware of everything around me; of my own breathing, of the sound of the wind and the crickets outside in the night… was I really going to leave it all behind? Was life suddenly so short for me? Was there no one out there who cared, who could save me?

Captain Ryan tapped the gun once against the side of my head and I failed at suppressing a scream, for which I received a short slap.

"Don't make too much noise, girl. I don't have any patience for teenagers."

He slapped me again, and I bit my lip to keep from crying out.

"Am I understood?"

I nodded quickly, giving myself a headache. I forced myself to look at the ground, away from him and the barrel of his gun.

"You were supposed to die with your father. Now isn't that sweet of us? We didn't want anyone left behind."

I tried as hard as I could to block his voice out. The police said they were out looking for my father's murders, but here they were, in my own house! And soon they would be my murderers as well…

"But I've decided to give you a chance. Killing teenagers is so messy. And you're pretty high profile, now that the police are looking for us… so I'll make you a deal. Give us our money and we'll leave you alone, forever, providing, of course, that you never speak a word of this to anyone."

I lifting my eyes to look at him, and the man took his hand a half-inch away from my mouth so that I could speak.

"I don't know what money you're talking about," I whispered.

"Liar!" Captain Ryan raised his fist to discipline me, but then there was noise at the door. The men suddenly sprung into action, one holding me close and covering my mouth again, and the other pressing the gun to the side of my head. They drew me into the shadows.

"Miss Daae," a voice called from my front door, "Miss Daae? This is Joseph Lawrence, from the Division of Youth and Family Services. Detective Rich is with me. Miss Daae?"

Captain Ryan whispered low and harshly into my ear. I could feel the cold steel pressing into my skull.

"We'll be back. If you say anything, to anyone, I swear I will rip this entire town to pieces. Is that clear?"

I nodded, waiting for the moment of release, not believing that I was still alive.

"_Is that clear_?" Captain Ryan pressed on the pistol for emphasis.

I nodded more quickly, anything to get them to leave.

"Don't do anything stupid," he warned me. "Just get us the money and we'll leave. Your father owed us. We don't let bygones be bygones. I want my money."

And then suddenly my doorbell rang again and the three men were gone, out some back window of my living room, and I sank off of the chair, crying miserably. _Why_? Why was this all happening now, so fast, so cruelly?

I wasted no time. I gathered the first things I could find into a large purse and insisted on taking the government men out to dinner. They said they wouldn't eat anything, but I just asked them to sit with me, and played some pretty line about how I hated eating alone. I didn't listen to their conversation. I knew that I couldn't stay in New Hampshire any longer, and that any family they placed me with would be in danger. But I needed to be out of my house. I had no idea if the men were still waiting for me. I could no longer go back. There was no past for me anymore, only a future, a future I had to create. As soon as we finished dinner and parted ways, I made my way to the bus station and rode up to the Canadian border. I passed easily into Canada and then commenced a series of weeks during which I lived like an animal in hiding, never staying in place for more than one night, never giving anyone my name and always paying in cash. No one asked me any questions.

One night I ran into a group of drunks. Between that experience and marching right back into Captain Ryan's waiting hands I'm not sure which I would choose. They wanted to have their fun with me. I was a teenage girl traveling alone, and they were a group of five very drunk and very strong men. When they discovered what I was, though, they decided that they didn't want to sleep with the "devil's child" as one man termed me. No, they had better plans for me.

I woke up the next morning and found myself on display, with a bag over my head and slits cut out for the eyes. They were making money off of my deformity. I had never felt so much rage in my life. I sprung up in terrible, hot anger, and this only made the crowd cheer more. I looked from face to face, from eye to laughing eye, and suddenly felt my throat constrict. Was there no one in the world who felt a thread of compassion for those less fortunate than they were? I fell back into my constraints, feeling as though the breath had been permanently knocked from me. _No one cared_. _No one could ever care._ _I am a monster_.

I suffered through three days of this peculiar type of psychological torture until the police broke up the men's little carnival. The policemen didn't say anything, but I am sure that they were horrified by me as well. They tried to ask me questions, but I was mute. I ran away from them as soon as I could. Later on, I blocked the entire experience from my memory. There are some things so horrible, so inhumane, that the brain and heart cannot hold them if they are to keep living. I managed so well that sometimes I could pretend that it had never happened… but I could never forget those little children's faces in my dreams, their frightened, crying faces…

I was done with Canada. I traveled through Wisconsin and Minnesota, afraid to settle in any one place. I was too afraid that Captain Ryan was still tracing me. I really didn't know what money he was talking about. As far as I knew, Papa had never made or taken any loans, or made any crooked deals… It took me another year to finally move to Carmel, and convince myself that maybe they had forgotten about me. I still didn't know where they were or what had happened to them. I didn't care.

I blinked up at my ceiling again, trying to bring myself back into reality. I had not thought of Canada in such a long time. Those memories needed to remain locked away. They were too painful… _Devil's child_… I shut my eyes and pounded against my comforter, screaming silently… _Devil's child_…

Some things can never truly be forgotten.

* * *

I wasn't in a mood to go to work, even if it meant seeing Erik. Had I forgotten all of this time, about the way that I looked? And that even if Erik loved me, he could never love _that_? I suppose I had stuffed those thoughts into the back of my mind… being around him was like a drug, and I came up with all sorts of reasons to justify the time I spent with him.

But memories wouldn't quit knocking my head and I developed a headache by the end of the workday. The only good thing that happened on that Tuesday was that Carla was nowhere in sight. My music lesson was short. Erik could tell that I wasn't in good spirits and I told him I had an awful headache anyway. He kissed me on the forehead before the night was over. I have to admit that it did a lot to heal my headache. I was a little giddy as I drove home. The things that man can do to me…

Wednesday morning dawned like any other morning. I yawned and stretched as I hit the snooze on my alarm clock. I heard Meg moving around downstairs and I felt a little more able to deal with the world. I hadn't dreamed last night and I was finding it easier to shove unwanted memories out of my mind. I showered and dressed, and made my way downstairs. Shadow was jumping at my heels as I entered the kitchen.

Meg greeted me, and I greeted her back, half-smiling, half-frowning.

"Has Shadow been out for a walk?"

"Not yesterday," she answered. "I was out last night."

"Nathan?" I asked, absentmindedly.

Meg frowned. "I haven't seen Nathan in a while. Just out with some girlfriends. Want some tea?"

I nodded and thanked her, taking the warm cup from her hands. I would have said more about him, but I didn't want Meg to know that she lived with a stalker. I had definitely eavesdropped on too many of her conversations. I was probably just overreacting to what I had heard.

"Do you want to sit in the living room?" She asked. I shrugged, and followed her over to the couch. She turned on the local news.

"So have we boycotted the kitchen?"

Meg laughed. "I don't know. I thought it was comfortable in here yesterday, so I wanted to do it again."

I looked over at her. "Katie's taking your shift again?"

"Yeah." Meg stretched languidly. "The afternoon shift does wonders for my complexion."

I laughed outright. "Helps your beauty sleep, does it?"

Meg grinned. "That's right, you've got it."

I shook my head and leaned against her. She leaned her head on my shoulder.

"I love you, Chrissie," she said quietly. "You know that, don't you?"

I swallowed at my sudden tears. "Yeah," I whispered. "Yeah, I know…" I desperately pushed back memories… _devil's child_, _devil's child_… these memories hadn't bothered me for years… why suddenly did I have to think on them now? I wished I hadn't spent all of yesterday morning thinking of my past.

I watched the TV mindlessly as the local news reporter gushed about the town fair and the grand opening of the new market in town. I wondered what the weather would be like today, and then started to think that I should be getting ready for work.

Meg tugged on my sleeve.

"Look at that. It's awful."

I glanced at my screen and felt a weird sensation pulling at my heart. The house was small and square... I knew the neighborhood to be a very expensive one… the inside must have been beautiful, just as my house in New Hampshire had been… and yet, just like my house, this one was blazing on fire. I swallowed delicately and then looked away. I didn't like fire. My chest burned with tears and memories.

"It is awful," I agreed quietly.

The news reported came on screen. "This fire was filmed yesterday afternoon as it consumed number 21, Oak Street, a house that was just built and has not yet been sold. The construction company was not available for comment. The police are currently investigating all possibilities."

The pictures behind the reporter changed to show different angles of the house, and he continued talking about the details of the neighborhood and where information was being gathered. I sighed and stood.

"I'd better get going to work, Meg, I-"

"Filed late last night with the police department, this woman has been considered a missing person."

I shrank back onto the couch and stared.

"Named Carla Khan, Iranian national, aged 27. Height, 5'6", weight, 145, brown eyes and brown hair. Medium build. Possibly carrying large sums of money or other valuables. Anyone with information is asked to contact the police department."

"Well, that's weird. We don't get much of that around here." Meg shrugged.

I blinked. "Yeah," I said slowly. "We don't, do we…?"

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah…" I slurred the word and Meg looked at me like I was drunk.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah…" I blinked twice, mentally slapped myself, and then stood quickly. "Like I said, I've got to get to work. I'll see you later."

"All right then. You know where I'll be if you want to talk."

"Right. Thanks Meg."

I was in my car five minutes later, driving to the construction site. Questions were running through my head like wildfire. Where could she have possibly gone? Nadir must have filed the missing person's report… but why? Did she have that many enemies, here in America? Was this what Erik and Nadir had been talking about? If they knew that she was in danger on Monday, why had they waited so long to report it?

But then… Nadir had been the one concerned; Erik had seemed so eerie, so smug… I shivered and pushed the entire conversation out of my mind. I had to be making things up. After all, they had been speaking in Farsi. I had no idea of what they could have been talking about. Not to help my suspicions, when I got to the trailer, Erik and Nadir were arguing, again, in Farsi.

"_Hal tarif ma menna hatha? Tarif, ya _Nadir?" Erik's voice was sharp and ugly. "_Lysat 'aindee cheeyarat el an."_

"_La, ya _Erik. _Kanet de'iman cheeyarat."_ Nadir's eyes were intense in a way I had never before seen them. To me, Nadir had always seemed a little spineless, following Erik and jumping at orders. But now, I saw a new Nadir; an angry, determined man.

He stood, drew himself to his full height and said, in English, "If you can't make it right, I will."

Erik stood suddenly as well, and he took the three steps that closed the distance between Nadir and him. Erik looked menacing as he glared into his friend's eyes.

"And how do you plan on doing that?" He asked in a deadly whisper.

Nadir sighed sadly. He dropped his gaze from Erik's. "I'll take away what matters to you most."

Erik stood rigid; staring at Nadir until I thought the Iranian would melt. Erik was incredibly intimidating when he wanted to be. For one, I was glad that he wasn't staring at me like that, but on the other hand, I felt like a total intruder on their conversation. I hadn't even put my bag down. I was still standing awkwardly by the open door. I turned and shut the door rather loudly; hoping one of them might notice me.

" _No one_ will take that from me, Nadir. Not her, not them, and not you. _Never_."

"I could do it. You know I could. All it would take is a few words… a few pictures-"

Erik grabbed Nadir's collar suddenly and they were practically nose-to-nose. I gasped at the sudden violence and pressed myself against the wall.

"Erik," I said softly, "Erik, don't hurt him-"

"You will not interfere in this." Erik spoke harshly to Nadir. "_You will not interfere_. Daroga, I warn you here and now that there is nothing more important to me on the face of this earth, and if you destroy it I will destroy you."

"And in the process destroy yourself as well."

"Gladly, as I shall then have nothing left to live for."

They stared head on at each other for a few more seconds before Erik let go.

Nadir spoke. "I'm sorry to do this, my friend."

Erik sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He looked sadly at Nadir and then took a few steps away.

"You're always sorry, Daroga… I always make you sorry."

Nadir shrugged, and then he looked straight at me. I suppressed a gasp. I was sure neither of them had noticed my presence in the slightest. I could feel Erik's eyes on me as well, and I opened my mouth to speak before Nadir beat me to it.

"Erik, promise me something."

Erik nodded over in his direction, taking his eyes off of me for a second. I watched his profile, watched all of the beautiful workings of his mind and traced the glint of his sun-kissed skin all the way to the slope of his neck and the breadth of his shoulders… my cheeks warmed and I looked away as the sound of his voice wrapped itself around me.

"What is it?"

"Promise me that this thing that matters most… promise me it'll redeem you."

Erik seemed a little surprised. He glanced over at me so quickly that I couldn't even be sure it had happened.

"There's no doubt of it, my friend," he whispered.

Nadir nodded, and then heaved a huge, lamenting sigh. "I thought so… Erik, be careful. Even the strongest flower dies without too much light. If you promise me, really promise, that this is the end, and that this can redeem you, maybe even save you in the eyes of G-d, then… then I will leave you alone to it, and never bother you again.

"But mark me, Erik, if I see your touch again I will not hesitate to make things right. And she will know everything."

Erik nodded, made his way over to his friend, and shook his hand. They exchanged a few light-hearted words in Farsi, and then Nadir pulled Erik into a quick hug.

"_Al'towfeehk, saudeeki_." The Iranian whispered warmly. I felt utterly out of place. I was clearly interrupting something very personal.

I spoke up, being the brilliant conversationalist that I am. "Hey, guys… uh, I'm going out to get some lunch. Do you care for anything?"

The pair looked at me, and then they glanced in unison at the clock, which clearly read ten o'clock. I swallowed my embarrassment and shrugged.

"Well, maybe just some coffee?"

They both declined. I looked around in frustration for something to get me out of this oppressive, confusing atmosphere.

"Well," I said again, sounding a little silly, "I'll just go and get a donut or something… I think I'll take my break now, actually… yes, that sounds nice, right? I think I'll be back in around an hour, bye!"

I nearly charged out of the little room, and ran across the site towards my car. I don't babble often, but when I do, I feel like a total idiot. Once safely in my car I banged my head a few times against the wheel. What was wrong with me, lately? I couldn't focus on anything, couldn't remember things, couldn't hold a normal conversation… all I could do was think about Erik and wonder why he evaded every personal question I ever asked him!

In aggravation I hit the gas pedal a little hard and sped off randomly towards the north. I didn't know why, but I felt the sudden urge to go to the park, sit in one of the swings, and just think.

Either I was crazy, or everyone else was crazy. Nothing made sense anymore. Everything around me was swirling into some big, dark cloud of chaos and I was too blind to see what was causing it or how to disperse it. I could _feel_ something awful on the horizon, something tragic, but I had no idea what comprised it. I needed answers, and I knew I wasn't getting them from Erik.

I parked and left everything on the passenger seat. I didn't want to talk to anyone. Closing my door a little hard, I rose from the car and headed for the small swing set. I was glad there were no children around. It wasn't the necessarily the nicest day outside. The sky was bleak and gray. There was no rain, but there was no sunshine either… just suspended limbo… _just like my life_…

_All right Christine; let's start from the beginning_. I had to organize my thoughts; there was just too much going on. I bent over the swing and picked up a small twig sitting in the mud. I traced an _E_ into the dirt beneath me.

_Erik_.

I thought for a moment and then traced a _G_.

_Gustave. Papa._

I drew a thin line connecting them, and then wrote in my initial underneath. Next to Erik I noted Nadir, and underneath that pair I wrote another _C_.

_Carla_.

_Erik, Nadir, Carla_.

_Iran._

_Gustave. Erik. Christine._

_Carla_.

I crossed out that list in frustration, looking again at all of the names I had written down. There was something in these scratchings, something that I wasn't seeing. What was connecting all of us?

I frowned at the names again.

_Erik._ _Carla. Iran._

Why did Erik go to Iran? Hesitatingly, I wrote another name in the dust.

_Captain Ryan._

I stared at this group of four words. There was no logical reason to think that they could possibly be related… except, that wherever I wrote Erik's name, I also wrote a small _C_ for Christine. Erik had promised my father that he would protect me, and I knew that whatever other evil things the man might be capable of, he wasn't going to break that promise. I stared at the ground. Memories began to flow through my mind, of words spoken in anger, and therefore perhaps not as guarded as they should have been…

_Carla saved my life… So what did you do? Rob a bank, murder someone?… Murderers don't deserve to live; don't you agree, Christine?…__ she will not hesitate to kill me, and you, too… __I __will be rid of Carla one day… _

_Murderers don't deserve to live; don't you agree, Christine?_

_Murderers don't deserve to live…_

_Murderers…_

_I __will be rid of Carla one day._

I dropped my stick suddenly, staring at the word I had just carved into the mud, next to Erik's name.

_Murder_.

I would not accept it.

I had to have gone down the wrong road. There was no way my Erik, my _Angel_, could have done something like that. No. Wrong. I was only remembering snippets of his conversations, taking words completely out of context, twisting his original meanings… Erik was not a murder. Not my Erik.

I crossed out the entire word map and started over.

_Iran_.

I sighed. Was there really a point? I had no idea what has happening around me. I was not in control; that much was clear. I was missing vital pieces of information, like why Erik had ended up in Iran in the first place. Had my father had business there, perhaps? Friends? Had Erik and Nadir known each other already? I found it hard to believe that Erik, living as an orphan in the walls of my home, had gotten much time to travel abroad and make connections. There was another reason he had gone to Iran. What had it been?

I groaned. This was utter frustration. Where did _I_ fit into all of this? Why did I have to bother about any of this at all? I didn't particularly like Carla; I wouldn't have cared if she had just upped and left for Iran… but something about her disappearance seemed too timely, so incredibly convenient… it couldn't be a coincidence.

_Think Christine! What are you missing?_

"Christine?"

I screamed and nearly jumped a mile high. He was walking towards me and I backed found myself inhibited by the swing, overcome by fear created by my own imagination and yet not being able to shove it away.

_Murder, murder, murder._

"Wh-what are y-you," I swallowed on a dry throat, "What are you doing here?"

I felt my eyes bulging and I tried to look as composed as possible, much more so than I felt, as he continued towards me.

"Are you all right?"

He was standing right beside me. My insides were twisting with fear.

"I- I think I've been better."

Erik sat next to me in concern. I resisted the urge to shift away from him.

"You look pale. Are you ill?"

I looked away from his eyes, filled with caring and kindness… I knew I had to be wrong, so why couldn't I shake this feeling? His voice was giving me chills, and I didn't know if it was out of fear or out of love.

"Erik…"

"Christine, let me-"

He touched me and I flinched involuntarily, sliding my arm out from underneath his hand. He looked at me with unreadable eyes, and I stood, throwing up my hands, incredibly frustrated.

"I don't get it, Erik. Tell me right now. What's going on?"

Erik looked at me innocently from his seat.

"I don't know what you're talking about, my de-"

"Don't give me that. What's up with you? What's wrong with Nadir? Where the hell is Carla?"

Erik watched me in silence for a moment, and I couldn't take the sight of his eyes. Looking at him was too distracting. I began to pace the short distance from one end of the swing set to the other.

"I couldn't say where Carla is at the moment." He finally answered. I stopped and turned to face him. "I cannot speak for Nadir. Does that answer you questions?"

"No! No, it doesn't. What went on in the trailer this morning?"

Erik's face tightened. "That is something between Nadir and myself."

I crumbled. I pulled my arms around myself and began to sob uncontrollably. My knees began to give way, and as I sank into the dirt, Erik's arms came around me. I fought between pushing him away and pulling him closer and finally lost all will to deal with him. We fell against the ground, and Erik cuddled me gently.

"I don't understand anything," I whispered. "I feel so lost."

Erik's voice was calm and vaguely hypnotic, disturbing the tiny hairs behind my ear.

"You don't have to understand everything right now, dearest. Some things are better left unanswered."

I pushed my arms around his neck, feeling the soft cotton of his shirt. I pinched a small amount of the material between my fingers and contemplated the sight through my tears.

"Why have you brought this on me?"

"What, Christine?"

"All of this. All of this darkness…" I gestured out uselessly behind him with one hand. "All of this confusion."

"It will all be over soon, my dear. Soon you will live in peace."

"But why did it have to happen at all?" I asked stubbornly.

"I don't know. I can't tell you."

"You can't tell me anything."

Erik pulled away from me and looked into my eyes. I tried to look away, but he grabbed my chin lightly and gently twisted my head. His eyes were beautiful, and I expended every last amount of willpower to try and resist his spell.

"I can tell you one thing, Christine." He traced a finger over my lips and cupped my cheek with his other hand. I couldn't suppress a shiver.

The harder I tried, to more I failed at avoiding the enchantment of his eyes. "What is that?" My voice was dazed and sounded far away. I could only see him…

"I love you. I love you and I will never cease to love you."

My heart nearly stopped. A few stray tears ran down my face at this confession. Those words! Those words I had been dying to hear from these very lips…

"Oh, Erik…"

"I love you, Christine…" He pulled me back in to his embrace and I couldn't help but cry. I loved him so much… My angel. My sweet, caring, beautiful angel.

Erik caressed my hair with one hand and guided my head to rest on his shoulder. He sang sweetly into my ear.

"_No more talk of darkness, forget these wide-eyed fears. I'm here, nothing can harm you - my words will warm and calm you. Let me be your freedom, let daylight dry your tears. I'm here, with you, beside you, to guard you and to guide you_ . . ."

I didn't know where my words came from; they just burst from my mouth. I lost myself in his eyes, in the sound of his voice…_"__Say you love me every waking moment, turn my head with talk of summertime . . . Say you need me with you, now and always . . . promise me that all you say is true - that's all I ask of you . . ."_

Erik stroked my hair, my cheek, any part of me, in an almost desperate fashion. He stared at me and my heart jumped as I saw tears in the corners of his eyes. "I've always needed you, Christine… I'll always need you…"

I silenced him with a kiss. The sky opened above us and as it began to rain I felt nothing but Erik beside me, and the sheer force of our emotions entwining and interweaving our souls.

* * *

When I finally returned home that Wednesday afternoon, I was completely exhausted and totally drenched. How could so much happen in one day? I shed my clothes and took a quick shower. Meg wasn't home, saving me that particular awkward conversation. When I was dry, I fixed a snack in the kitchen and lounged on the couch, spreading my arms above me and relishing in the feeling of being alone and having no responsibilities to anyone, for that one moment.

I felt Shadow begin to lick the tips of my fingers and I giggled. Shadow jumped up on top of me, looking incredibly hopeful, and I laughed, kissing him on the forehead.

"Did you know someone loves me?"

Shadow blinked at me.

"He does. He said so. He loves me and I love him and Papa must be smiling at us from heaven."

Shadow titled his head at me and I nodded seriously.

"He does love me, Shadow. And I couldn't love him more if I tried. He's so beautiful… and so kind, and he sings like an angel… he's strong and smart, and when he kisses me I think I'm about to faint… Oh, don't look at me like that. Have you ever been in love?"

Shadow kissed my nose and I laughed harder than I had in weeks, it seemed.

"I guess it was a silly question… you know sometimes I don't understand him. He's got so many things to hide… but the crazy thing is that I don't care. I really don't… if he can love me, then I have nothing more to demand of him… I'm a monster, Shadow. No one can love me…"

Shadow barked at this and leapt off my lap.

"Hey… Shadow!" He wagged his tail and charged up the stairs towards my room. I shrugged, finishing my apple just as my phone began to ring. I sighed, figuring it was Raoul.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Chrissie."

"Meg!" I smiled widely, suppressing the urge to thank her for not being Raoul. I wasn't in the mood to talk to him. I was impatient for him to come home so I could get everything out in the open and stop feeling so guilty.

"Who'd you except, your other lovely roommate?"

I laughed, and she continued quickly, "Listen, Chrissie; Natalie invited me out to the club and I've been so bored lately. I was thinking about hitting the mall and then the club. Do you want to come?"

"Oh, no. I'm fine. When do you think you'd be around?"

"Sometime really late tonight."

"All right, that's fine."

"Don't wait up."

I smirked. "Pick up a cute guy for me."

"You've already got one."

I hadn't been expecting that one. I cleared my throat.

"Right. Well, I'll see you tomorrow morning then?"

"Yep."

"Have fun, Meg."

"Will do. Have a good night, Chrissie."

"Thanks. Bye."

We hung up and I pushed my fingers through my hair, wondering what I would do for the rest of the day. I knew I had a music lesson later, but that wasn't for a couple of hours. Remembering Shadow, I ventured up towards my room.

He was sitting on my bed.

"Hey kid." I sat next to him. "You haven't been out for a walk lately, have you?"

Shadow barked again.

"I'll take you out, sweetie. Let me find your leash."

Shadow did the most adorable things when he was excited. He jumped in circles, chasing his tail and then shook out his fur until he was a little puffball.

I hugged his small body to my own, and found whatever random items were in my pocket.

"Go fetch," I said, throwing a bottle cap across my room. Shadow charged after it, dutifully trotting back to me with the cap in his teeth.

I pet his head, and then threw it again, this time further. Shadow once again succeeded in his task.

"All right," I said fondly, "Let's see what you can do with this!" I threw the cap as hard as I could, and the cap bounced on the carpet and then slid under my closet door. Shadow sped towards the door and then stopped, tilting his head and barking at the door, as if this would magically cause it to open. I swallowed. I didn't want to open that door. I didn't want to see Canada again.

But Shadow wouldn't leave it alone. He wanted to rescue that bottle cap for me. I sighed.

"The things I do for you, Shadow…" I opened the door and scooped up the cap as quickly as possible, meaning to shut the closet directly afterwards. But Shadow poked his head inside, sniffing around.

I sat down next to the door and called to him.

"Come on Shadow. Mommy wants to close this door now." I threw the cap to the other side of the room, trying to catch his attention. "Look! Over there- go get it, Shadow!"

But he wasn't interested in me at the moment. He pushed my father's violin case over, trying to sniff at what was stored behind it. My heart lurched. I caught the case in my hands, cradling it to my chest.

"Shadow, be careful!"

I tried my hardest to suppress tears at the sight of the case. I hated remembering these things… I wondered vaguely if my father's scent still hung on his violin, and against better judgment I opened the case, looking at the smashed pieces of the formerly beautiful instrument. I sighed, setting the case down on the ground and stroking the bent wood.

"I love you, Papa…"

Shadow interrupted my reverie, suddenly becoming interested in me again. He sniffed my father's violin case.

"You would have liked him, Shadow," I said, not really knowing why.

Shadow looked at me, and then he put his paw into the case, scratching around at the bottom, and pulling at the velvet with his teeth.

"Shadow, no!" I pulled him away, my heart constricting with fear that any part of my father's memory should be harmed.

I placed Shadow on the carpet on the other side of the closet and then went to close the violin case and replace it in the closet. I fingered the spot that Shadow had scratched at, trying to make sure there wasn't any permanent damage. I frowned. Something was wrong.

I ran my fingers over the spot again and felt that it was slightly more upraised than the rest of that wall of the case. I felt a hairline crack in the velvet and pulled at it.

I gasped. It was a small, hidden pocket. Inside there were two fading pieces of paper, one a written note, and the other a small folder. I pulled them both out and laid them on my lap. There was blood on the edges of the letter. My nerves were so numbed that I had no strength left to be surprised or even curious. I unfolded the letter and as I read it, I understood that destiny had led me to this very moment.

_My dearest Christine, my darling girl, my sweet and only child,_

_If you are reading this, I have already passed on, and you are now with Erik._

_I know you must be confused. There are so many things that I should have told you, years ago. Now that time is short, I shall leave most of this up to Erik, an upstanding and honest man who cares for you greatly, and will protect you wherever you go. I have put all of my confidence and trust in him, and I beg you to do the same. I love him like a son, and I know that he will not let you down._

_The men who took my life wanted something from me that I could never repay. I fear that they will target you after I am gone, and so I have arranged for you to leave the country. I have asked Erik to take you to Iran, where I have former business associates who might shelter you for a while. Enclosed here you will find two plane tickets, one for you and one for Erik. Leave with him as soon as you can. Do not hesitate on this, dearest one. This is for your own safety._

_I'm sorry that my own mistakes and my own weaknesses have forced our family apart. Stay with Erik. He will take care of you. He alone can understand your pain, and I hope that you will help him to heal as well._

_Never stop singing, and never stop loving music. Remember me kindly and fondly, please. Do not remember these last moments in which I feel that I have failed you. Know that I am always watching you, always loving you. I would say that I would send you the Angel of Music, but you have him right there next to you._

_Goodbye my dearest daughter. I love you._

_-Papa_

As I furiously blinked back the tears that blurred my vision, I dropped my father's letter and picked up the second envelope, now recognizing it for a plane pamphlet form Continental Airlines. My heart beat like lead, pumping cold blood through my veins, going ever slower as my brain slowly, painfully, pieced together what had happened.

I opened the pamphlet at my final suspicions were confirmed.

There was only one ticket in the pamphlet.

_Christine Daae. Seat 11D. Boarding time: 11:00…_

I blinked at the words, willing them to mean anything other than what they had to mean.

Every awful memory of that period of my life, every child who had cried and laughed at me, every beating I had taken from my captors, all came rushing back to me in one sickening, dizzying burst.

_None of it was supposed to have happened._

_I was meant to have been in Iran._

I had suffered and died as the Devil's Child, arising as a new, cynical, beaten down Christine… and I could have avoided it all…

It all came back to one person, one person that I loved and hated with every fiber of my being. It was his fault.

_Erik_.

**

* * *

**

**All right! Translation time! The words in Erik and Nadir's conversation were actually in Arabic and not Farsi because I don't speak Farsi. So I'm sorry about that for anyone who may have noticed. Also… I'm still a student in Arabic and not proficient so if something seems off I'm really sorry! Transliterations are always funky.**

**So basically, "Do you know what this means? Do you, Nadir? I have no options now."**

**"No, Erik. There are always options."**

**And then later on, Nadir says, "Good luck, my friend." **

**So I don't really know how I feel about this chapter. I really like some parts. Others I'm iffy on. I'm going to post this now and then worry about possibly editing later, just to please you guys. Please tell me if you liked it or not, if you get the chance. **

**Last chapter was a lot about setting things up for the Big Fail, as I like to call Chapters 17-19. This chapter was the beginning of the end, the beginning of the unwinding of everything. I've had this scene in my head since the beginning of the story and I'm not sure if I got it across correctly.**

**There's a lot more intrigue and lies and huge surprises to come. These are good places for you, the reader, to go, "Oh! I remember this. This is where, in that INCREDIBLY IMPORTANT ITALICIZED PART AT THE BEGINNING OF EVERY CHAPTER, Erik and Gustave were talking about Iran. It all makes sense now. Thanks, authoress!"**

**Yeah. So, I'm excited to craft the next chapter. This should be really fun. Not for the characters, that is. For me! :) **** And yes, I did steal Raoul's song and gave it to Erik. That's what happens when you're Raoul. Angry phangirls are known to do stuff like that. I like Erik. **

**But anyway, I love you guys! Thanks for being such awesome and loyal readers! Tell me if you liked this chapter… I'm never sure how I feel about it!  
Happy Reading!**

**~IceCliff**


	17. Chapter 17

**Wow, I'm nervous. I have to stretch out my arms a little bit, crack a few knuckles. This chapter has to be perfect… it's the open of the Big Fail. I'll tell you honestly that right now I have no idea how Erik is going to get out of this Iran thing. I'll just let him do the talking… I'll say one thing though- Nadir really has no sense of self-preservation sometimes.**

**I love you guys to death. Thank you so much for your thoughtful reviews and loyal readership. You make my heart glow! :)**

**Terbear****: Hmm… can you figure out this italics? I think this is partially my fault- if I had updated with more regularity, then perhaps you would have remembered them more clearly and made better connections… but I'm glad you are still setting stock by them. They do help to explain a rather confusing story. Thank for reviewing! Happy reading with this one. I wonder if you will be surprised!**

**Debkay****: Hello again! Happy to see you still reviewing! :)**** I'm so touched by your reviews, as I said before. I'm glad you like it so much. I'd be horrified to disappoint you. I'm also glad you're reading so closely. You might understand things more readily that way. There is a lot in the coming chapters… things you will be shocked to learn about our poor characters! :)**** I'm excited just thinking about it. Hmm… a chance to explain himself about the Iran thing? Yes, we'll see. Erik is a bit devious. Hee hee. Thank you so much, and please keep enjoying the story. **

**Captain Ichabod Rainey:**** Yaaay! Thank you! And… the kiss was so perfect, like I said. I can't believe I didn't think of it before. It set things up so nicely for this chapter. Hee hee. Have fun reading with this one. I hope you like it! :)**

**So… be prepared. Get ready. The storm is on the horizon. Before you I set Chapter 17.**

_The man stood turned away from the door, facing the mirror. Through the window the first bright rays of sunlight were bent and spread throughout the room, avoiding the man at all costs. He was not to be brightened, not to be illuminated._

_The man never made mistakes. It was not in his nature. But this time, he had been distracted by something, namely his own self. As he stared into the mirror, he neglected to notice that he had left the door ever slightly ajar._

_The Iranian stood just beyond the door, peering in with the greatest secrecy. He would know what this secret was. He would have understanding. The Iranian knew that stealth, in this situation, could probably save his life. He made the greatest effort to keep completely silent. But as he watched, watched the most medically interesting and physically appalling thing of his life, he couldn't help but give a short gasp. It was his undoing._

_Erik lunged from the bathroom mirror, bursting open the door. The Iranian, frozen with fear at the expression on Erik's face, took two stumbling steps backwards and fell against the wall. Erik cornered him, livid._

_"You want to know my secret, Nadir?" The man whispered acidly._

_The Iranian tried to shake his head, tried to slip away. Erik grabbed him by the shoulders._

_"Do you want to know? _Do you_? Anyone who knows will never escape me again."_

_The Iranian pleaded, and Erik, in his anger, could see nothing but his revenge._

_"Know, then! Know, and be afraid! Know that I am two inches away from snapping your sorry neck!"_

_And Erik acted, and Nadir knew the horror of what he should never have tried to figure out. It _was_ terrible, too, but Nadir felt too much pity for his friend to let it all end there. Instead, he took Erik by the shoulders and looked him straight in the eye._

_"I am not afraid of you."_

_Erik stared at him. _

_"You are lying."_

_Nadir sighed, looking towards the floor._

_"Maybe now I am, but in time…"_

_"I don't want your time. I don't want your pity-"_

_"I'm not offering you pity," the Iranian said with a little irritation, "I'm offering you friendship."_

_Erik shook his head. He didn't believe in the word._

_"Erik… why? Why all of this pretense?"_

_Erik shook his head slowly, dragging his fingers down the sides of his face. His eyes glazed over, and a small, self-pitying smile graced his features._

_"You want to know why?" Erik's smile turned eerie as the tears began to flow from his golden eyes. "… it's all because of her. It's all for her… it's always been for her…"_

_As Erik confessed this to his one friend, neither of the pair noticed that there was someone else in the background, a tall and beautiful, dark-haired female, who filed this information away for later use. _

I was not living within myself during the next twenty-four hours. The events following my discovery of my father's letter are blurry, fast, and confused in my mind. I felt as though blow after blow followed until my brain was too weak to contain it all and simply shut down. I had originally thought, as I clutched my father's letter to my chest in anger, that I now knew everything, and that I held all of the cards, but as I plunged deeper into the mystery surrounding the periods directly before and after his murder, I realized that I was very, very wrong. The letter that I prized as the key to the treasure was only a miniscule tip of a dreadfully steep iceberg, one that I shortly found myself sliding down into freezing, deathly waters…

I was so numb, I felt as though I was watching myself act from a position well outside of my body. I thought Shadow may have been barking somewhere in the distant background, but I ignored it. Everything was remote and unimportant in that moment; the only thing I knew was that I had been betrayed, and that my father's promise had not been kept. Through tunnel vision I saw random lines of my father's letter pop out at me; _Erik, an upstanding and honest man who cares for you greatly, and will protect you wherever you go… asked Erik to take you to Iran… Stay with Erik. He will take care of you… He alone can understand your pain_…

Erik, Erik, Erik! I crumpled the envelope with the plane tickets in barely suppressed fury. The fact that my father had placed so much stock in him, that my father had written him into almost every line of his last letter to me, only pointed to the enormity of Erik's betrayal, and served to ignite the bitterest embers of my wrath. Did I love him? Did I feel anything for him at all, except this blind, white anger? I loved him through a haze, through a long, dark tunnel in which I saw Captain Ryan, and my captors, and the lonely nights in Canada…

I wanted it to be untrue, yearned for this all to be wrong… and yet at the same time I was standing, clutching the papers and heading downstairs. I knew Erik would be in the music room, as he always was. Whenever I needed him, he was there… what a shame the same couldn't be said for him six years ago! I would not back down from him this time- I would not led him slide by with evasions. I had let him skate long enough on bare-truths and dodging. Now, I would get the answers I wanted. I knew his secrets now.

I clutched the steering wheel firmly and drove quickly to the Opera House, hoping vaguely that I wouldn't crash into anything in my excitement. I locked the car without realizing what I was doing; all insignificant, mundane actions were pushed aside in my mind as I focused on the window of the music room, up there on the second landing… I climbed quickly, taking the stairs two at a time. There would be no hesitating. I saw the door ahead of me at the end of the corridor. Brandishing the papers in my hand like a rifle and my heart beating angry blood throughout my body, I burst into the music room.

Erik turned around quickly, surprised to see me this early. He opened his mouth to speak but I silenced him by slamming the door behind me and glaring at him. His mouth fell closed and his eyes widened almost imperceptibly as he watched me. I felt my anger rise as I approached him, all of my bitter questions running through my head like a marquis. _Why did you leave me there?_ _Why didn't you save me?_ _Don't you love me, Erik? Don't you love me?_

I suppressed tears with a great effort. I would not cry now, I would not show fear or weakness… I cleared my throat and I was standing not more than a foot away from him. I lifted the papers and stretched out my hand to him. Erik's eyes fell from my face down to the papers, and he turned completely blank. I heard him take in a sharp breath, and when he looked back into my eyes, his expression was aghast. His fingers shook as he made to take the papers from me. I snatched my hand back, letting out an eerie, hollow laugh that sounded nothing like me. I was beginning to feel lightheaded.

"You think you have a right to these papers, do you? You think you have a right to my father's last thoughts, his last wishes?"

Erik's eyes closed against my onslaught.

"Christine," he began, in a half-whisper. His body had begun to sway ever so slowly back and forth.

"I don't want to hear your excuses! I don't want apologies. I want _explanations_. I want _truth_, Erik, _truth_! Or doesn't that mean anything to you?"

"You don't understand-"

At this, I couldn't suppress another laugh. I threw up my hands, beginning to pace the small area in front of the piano.

"I never understand, do I? Never, never… and you just keep lying to me!"

"I haven't lied-" Erik's eyes flashed momentarily.

"You said you kept his promise!" I waved the papers in front of him. "You never kept his promise. You betrayed him! You betrayed me!"

Erik stood, knocking the piano bench back towards the front legs of the instrument. He stepped closer to me and we were mere inches apart. His eyes glared into my own.

"You speak of what you cannot understand, Christine."

"Oh, really? Explain it to me then. Tell me why you left me to _die_."

Erik's hands were suddenly at my shoulders, and he roughly forced me to look into his eyes. I saw sparks of anger swirling in the gold and felt the first thread of fear at his uncontrolled tendency towards violence.

"You life is more precious to me than my own. I did not leave you unattended, to die at the hands of some despicable beast like Captain Ryan."

Hearing the name from his lips shocked me into shaking his fingers off.

"So you know! You knew and yet you let them come for me!"

"Did I? Did you ever wonder why Captain Ryan never found you in Carmel? You weren't exactly difficult to locate."

I blinked, almost uncertainly, and then glanced at the papers again and felt reassured in my righteous anger.

"You're lying to me again, Erik, lying and twisting my words and trying to make me believe in you when you failed! You messed up and I'm worse off because of it!"

"I _did not fail_." I had said the wrong thing. Erik advanced on me and I stepped back, nearly tripping over myself. In a quick movement he had grabbed me again and forced me backwards until I hit the piano. He held me there in a vice grip. "I kept the promises I made, and I made the decision I knew would be best for you."

"Oh, so being put on _display_ for my hideous _deformity_ was what- a character building exercise?"

Erik's grip tightened, and pain shot up my arms.

"Don't mock me, Christine-"

"I'm not mocking you! How dare you- how could you- _this isn't about you!_"

Erik continued as if he hadn't heard me.

"I sacrificed everything for you, everything! And you don't understand, you couldn't understand, not even if your father swore up and down that you would. I knew you wouldn't… no one ever will…"

"What are you talking about?" I asked, exasperated.

"I _couldn't_ take you to Iran. I couldn't, that wasn't the time…"

"But after I had seen a little of the beautiful Canadian countryside… that was the right time?"

"No, you aren't listening to me! You're so focused on what happened to you-"

_"_So _focused_?" I asked shrilly. "So focused? Do you have any idea what I went through? Any idea what it's like to be shut up in a _cage_-"

"Don't ever assume," Erik said darkly, forcing me back further into a piano that wasn't budging, "that you know what it is like to suffer more than I do."

I tried to compel him away from me, struggling to pull my arms out of his grips, but he pushed harder, and I felt the wooden grooves in the piano begin to press into my skin. I wrestled with him again, kicking, trying anything to get out of his grasp, and I only succeeded in getting myself pressed more firmly into the wood. Erik's face was inches from mine, and he was nearly livid.

"I did what I had to do. I was protecting you, by not taking you with me."

"Protecting me from what, Erik? Maybe you thought you were doing the right thing, but you were wrong!"

"No, I wasn't."

"Then what were you protecting me from, if it wasn't Captain Ryan?"

Erik hesitated. His grip slipped slightly and in that moment I summoned all of my strength to push him off of me. He fell backwards and I scampered across the room, pressing myself against a wall, trying to put distance between us. Erik glared at me from across the room and began to approach me.

"Stay where you are!" I winced as I heard fear betray itself in my voice. Erik stopped short, watching me with a disturbing, predatorial gaze.

"Answer my questions." I demanded. He only continued to stare at me.

"Why didn't you take me to Iran, if you promised my father that you would?"

"I did not promise him that. He asked, and I… never gave him an answer."

"Why?"

"I cannot say."

"That's not an answer."

"That's the only answer."

"Well what the hell does _that_ mean?"

"It means that my reasons for not taking you to Iran no longer apply in their general sense, and explaining them to you now would put all of my previous actions in vain."

"Erik," I nearly sobbed, "just tell me something real, will you? Tell me something I can understand. I can't love you if I can never understand anything, if all you ever do is apologize for things I'm not supposed to know…"

Erik blinked. I don't think he had expected an attack on the love that I had promised not just this afternoon.

He shook his head slowly. "But there are so many things… that I cannot tell you…"

I closed my eyes. Tears were lodging behind my eyelids and I said the only thing that I thought could rouse him to the truth, even if it was a lie. I felt so hopeless, in that moment.

"Then I cannot love you."

There was a short silence, and when I opened my eyes again, Erik had closed the space between us and knelt down beside where I was standing. I lowered myself to be level with him.

He looked at me, and his eyes were totally unreadable, but full of bitter emotions.

"You promised me, Christine."

I began to shake my head, but his voice increased in intensity and he grabbed both of my hands.

"You promised me- I remember every time. A promise is such a strong bond, Christine, don't you understand? You promised… to forgive me if I told you this, and you promised… that you would never run away from me; you promised that you wanted to be mine, forever…"

What do you say to something like that? Especially when, even through your anger, you know that it is true?

I swallowed and looked at his tear-strained face, searching his beautiful, pained eyes. I gave his fingers a small squeeze, not really knowing why.

"You promised too, Erik," I whispered, "but you broke that promise."

"No. I would never."

"Then what happened? Why? Just tell me why?"

Erik sighed.

I squeezed his fingers again and slid myself closer to him. My proximity forced him to look at me, and his eyes locked onto my face as if he were transfixed. I could hear his unsteady breathing.

"I was in so much pain, during those weeks," I said slowly, gauging his reaction. My words seemed cause him a physical ache. "I just want to know why." I hesitated before voicing my one silent, pressing fear. "Don't you love me, Erik?"

He blinked rapidly, suddenly lunging, pulling his hands out of my grasp, and instead taking my face into his hold. His eyes pleaded that I understand, that I realize how deeply he loved me… and yet, it wouldn't click. My mind refused to comprehend all of his mystery. This time, I needed fact.

"Just tell my why," I asked again, quietly.

Erik leaned in close enough that I could feel his breath on my cheeks. His face was so heartbreakingly beautiful, and I wanted so to forgive him, for him to have some real, concrete explanation…

He kissed me, ever so lightly, and before I could respond, he had bowed his head and retaken my hands, laying them on his lap.

He began to sing in a hushed and broken voice.

"_Because I love you, I need you, like Earth needs the sun… I need the one I love to keep my hope bright, my head right, my heart fighting on, until I am back in your arms_…"

"Erik…" I didn't want to cry, to surrender to his spell, but it was happening anyway. I loved him… His eyes swirled and I was lost in their depths.

"_I need you like summer needs rain, to grow and sustain each day. I hear you sing and it brings strength to my soul. I'm more than sure that I can't endure without your love for me."_

I knew I couldn't endure without him… I tried to remember why I was even angry in the first place… I loved him so…

"_I love you and need you, like I need to breathe… Did Adam need Eve like this? Now I see clearly- I nearly gave up all I had so whatever our differences are, please bid them goodbye, please give me a chance… because I love you_…"

Suddenly, his words penetrated my love-induced haze. He nearly gave up all he had? I _did_ give up all I had, because _he_ hadn't been there to save me! I narrowed my eyes as he lifted his head once more. The pleading tones of his song died off and he could see that his song had not had the desired affect. A single tear ran down the perfect planes of his face. I refused to let his beauty distract me.

"That's not an explanation, Erik, that's an evasion. You're pleading for pardon."

"No, you don't see… you misunderstand." He shook his head rapidly. "There is no possible way for you to understand, until you realize that everything I just said is the only reason for my continued existence. That without you, I am nothing-"

"And yet, everything you say seems to contradict everything you did."

"But, listen! Listen, Christine, try to understand! This isn't about knowing… it's about seeing, about what you did not see…"

He stared at me, turning something over slowly in his mind. I stared back, willing, somewhere in my heart, to make some sort of excuse for him…

"I couldn't… I couldn't do it… because I was weak. I still am… even now I would have done the same thing, because I love you-"

I blinked, and all thoughts of forgiveness burned in the wake of his words. I clenched my fists angrily.

"You would have done the same thing, _because you love me?_ You would have let me rot and suffer, because _you love me_? What sort of twisted, sick love-"

"Don't, please-" He bent his head. My words were breaking him down.

"I will! How dare you take something so pure as love and use it as a defense for this… warped, cruel, sense of-"

"_Christine_!" Where before his voice had sounded weary, now he was just as livid as I was.

"I can never love you!" I flung out mercilessly, ignoring the voice somewhere in the back of my mind that told me I was lying. I knew this would be the only way to get to him. "I can never trust you, never! You are not worth making a promise to, you-you- _monster_!"

My breath came out heavily as I released the wretched words. The sudden silence was crushing. Erik stared at me in misery for a moment, before his expression turned totally blank. I knew I had crossed an invisible line. Erik stood, drawing me with him, and as he towered above me, his eyes narrowed, I opened my mouth to speak, and then abruptly closed it. I had felt the strange change in the atmosphere around us, and I could no longer draw upon my anger. I felt almost paralyzed, staring up at him, but not in a tender, romantic sort of way…

I felt more like a servant recognizing her master. Erik tugged on me and I followed, feeling sort of fuzzy. What was happening to me? I knew no emotions in that very moment, no thoughts or sensations, only the knowledge that Erik was there, a formidable, controlling presence ahead of me… There was a low tingling in my ear and in a space of time that could have been seconds or minutes I realized that it was humming.

The music twisted and morphed into a soft, lilting melody, the kind that made you sleepy and at the same time made you want to resist the sleep. I wasn't seeing anymore, so I closed my eyes, letting the music envelope me. It wasn't the same as surrendering to Erik's song, to his eyes and his beauty… this music was different… I couldn't distinguish between what I thought to be his voice and the piano… it all blended and floated on the air around me, as if the sound waves were tangible.

A few seconds passed before I realized that I was now sitting, and not standing. The music reached a crescendo, and I felt dreamlike, as if I were flying. I spread my arms and threw my head back, and somewhere in the back of my mind there was a voice, speaking to me, telling me what was going on, what had happened, and I believed it…

* * *

Thursday morning dawned gloriously. My first thought upon waking was of great euphoria. I ran my fingers along my deliciously comfortable bedspread and giggled. I had not felt so indecently happy in a very long time. Every thought I had was one of peacefulness, of love. I flopped over onto my stomach and checked the time on my alarm clock. I smiled grandly. Perfect! I was just in time to have a leisurely breakfast, get to my office… Today was going to be a perfect day. I could feel it in my bones.

I nearly skipped across the hall to take a shower. Everything was so wonderful... did I really deserve this? I let the warm water cascade down my back and smiled. Even my burns couldn't bring me down today. I leaned against the stone wall of my shower and nearly laughed at my bliss, remembering last night…

Erik had been so tender and caring… I was so lucky to have someone like him. We had stayed late into the night, singing, talking about everything and nothing… I blushed as I remembered some of the other choice activities we had participated in. I remembered vaguely having arrived extra early at my music lesson, although I couldn't place a reason why. I was just happy that I had, because it meant more time with Erik. The other events of yesterday were a little fuzzy to me. The music lesson stood out in my mind because it had been so peaceful, and Erik had treated me like a queen. I wanted to go back to last night and live in that memory forever… it was perfection.

Meg was on the phone when I made it downstairs, and I smiled widely at her, waving. She waved back, seeming pleased with my good mood. I hummed to myself as I made coffee, and sat down to munch on a bagel. Afterwards I ran upstairs to change for work.

Work went quickly. I was too wired to be bored. Most of the day I sat staring up at the ceiling, remembering the flawlessness of last night. _I love you, Erik…_

My phone rang towards the end of the day.

"Hey Raoul."

"Hey, Christine. I've been missing you."

"Have you?" I traced Erik's name onto my tabletop with my finger.

"Yeah… and I have a surprise for you."

"Hmm? What's that?"

Raoul paused for dramatic effect, and then spoke. I could hear the grin in his voice. "Guess where I am right now, sweetie."

I shrugged. "Hawaii?"

"No." I could hear him suppress a laugh.

"Australia?"

"No."

"Where, then?"

"Los Angeles."

I blinked rapidly. Through my hazy fog of bliss, I acknowledged that Los Angeles was very much in the United States.

"Wha- but Raoul, I thought you weren't coming home until Saturday…?"

"I changed my plans. I'm flying home tomorrow morning. I should be back by 11:00."

"Wow… but you must be jetlagged!"

"Yeah. I have a publicist thing later and then I'm sleeping it. I want to see you tomorrow."

"Oh, Raoul-"

"Don't say another word. How have things been?"

I sighed. The poor man was in for such heartbreak. I was a terrible person. And yet… I couldn't work up enough anger to berate myself. I was too happy. So I sat back and chatted with Raoul for almost an hour. We mostly talked about nothing, but I could tell he was enjoying it.

Eventually, he said he had to go.

"Where will you be tomorrow afternoon?"

"I work at the construction site from 9 to 2:30."

"Okay. Can I meet you there?"

"Oh… sure. Just don't stay to long, all right? We have loads of work to do."

"Don't sweat it, Christine. I just have something I want to tell you, and then… we'll have lots of time to talk later."

"Right. So…"

"So, I've got to go, but I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah."

We hung up, and I sighed, knowing I should feel guilty, but not feeling any negative emotions whatsoever. I shrugged it off, not really minding the absence of remorse. Soon, tomorrow, I would be rid of this guilty relationship with Raoul, and I could be with Erik, finally…

When I got home I was seized by the unconquerable urge to go running, and so I changed into short and a t-shirt and set off down the block towards the ocean. My head wasn't clear… but it was a perfectly delightful place to be. Everything I thought about, all the memories that surfaced that day were incredibly blissful and peaceful. I couldn't keep Erik out of my head. I wanted to see him.

Without really thinking about what I was doing, I turned off the beach and started down the street. I knew generally where Erik lived, and in that moment it made perfect sense that I should visit him. I ran for miles, but my body kept going as if it had only been a few minutes. It was like I was above the physical that day…

I was a slight sweaty mess when I finally arrived at Erik's development, and I had to lean down on my knees for a moment to catch my breath. The miles were finally catching up to me, and I could feel the strain in my calves. I walked towards Erik's house, enjoying the rawness of my lungs in every quick breath I took. I loved the endorphin rush of exercise.

I knocked and then rang the doorbell, and after a few seconds, the door began to open. I stood up straighter in anticipation of seeing him, and was surprised and slightly disappointed to see Nadir standing before me.

He registered slight shock. "Hello, Christine. I wasn't expecting you."

"I wasn't expecting you either," I admitted, looking around him to try to catch a glance of Erik. "Is this Erik's house?"

"Yes. We share the home. Please, come in."

I hadn't known that they lived together like Meg and I did, but I guess it made sense. And it made me all the more soft towards him, knowing that we had yet another thing in common, no matter how small it seemed.

I followed Nadir into the quaintly decorated foyer, glancing around at the paintings mounted on the walls.

"Erik's work," he said softly. I met his eyes in surprise, and he shrugged.

"This is the living room," He ushered me in and I sat on a huge, comfy sofa. "Would you like something to drink?"

"Do you have any water?"

"Of course," Nadir inclined his head slightly and disappeared towards what I assumed to be the kitchen. I looked around. There had to be a least ten paintings alone in this very room. Most were abstracts, but some were brilliant landscapes, rolling hills, gushing waters… I smiled as my eyes fell upon a painting of a piano. Beside it was a small sketch of an organ and a violin.

When Nadir returned, I asked him is Erik was home.

"No," he answered, sitting next to me in a plush leather chair. "Can I be of any help?"

I stared at the floor, frowning. Erik wasn't home? But he was always where I needed him, when I needed him to be there. Why was he not home? What was he doing?"

"Christine?"

I blinked. Then my cheeriness caught up with me again and I smiled.

"No, nothing's up. I just wanted to see him."

"Oh." Nadir paused. He stood suddenly, pacing towards the fireplace. He fingered a blurry sketch of a little girl. Then he sighed, replacing the photo. He spoke with his back towards me.

"Are you in a relationship with Erik?"

I nearly choked on my water. "Nadir, I hardly think that's an appropriate question-"

"It's perfectly appropriate," he snapped, and I was taken aback. Nadir never got irritated. "Answer the question." His accent was more apparent when he was angry. He was still facing towards the fireplace.

"I… I mean, I can't say… I'm seeing someone else, right now-"

"Don't be ridiculous, Christine, I'm not looking to ruin you. I just need to know the truth."

I stared at his back, shocked at his attitude. I stuttered a little, not knowing how to deal with a heated Nadir. "Um… well, we've been… uh…" He finally spun to look at me, and I blushed. "Yeah," I said, clearing my throat. "I guess you could say we were in a… relationship."

"A romantic one?" He asked, his eyes piercing into mine.

"Well… yes."

Nadir nodded, looking as though this was the answer he both wanted and expected. His shoulders relaxed slightly, but I could still see the crease of concentration between his brows. He refocused his gaze on me.

"How do you feel about him?"

"Nadir," I protested. I felt like my innermost being was being x-rayed. I wasn't ready to share that with Nadir… I was hardly ready to share it with Erik.

"I've got to know Christine- do you love him?"

I looked down at the plush scarlet carpet, allowing the hair that had unloosed from my ponytail to sweep in front of my face.

I closed my eyes, swallowing my shyness. "Yes," I whispered. "Yes, I love him."

When I looked up again Nadir had traversed the room and sat next to me on the couch, leaning in towards me with an intense expression on his face.

"I am glad," he said softly. "You cannot know how long he has loved you for. You will not meet someone who loves you as he does."

I smiled a little, looking into his eyes. "I know."

"Erik is my friend." He put a strong emphasis on the word. "He nearly saved my life, as I aided in saving his. I would not see him hurt."

"Nadir-"

He held up his hand. "I am so happy that he has finally found love with you. Please, try to remember how he has suffered… and love him as best you can."

"I will," I whispered. Tears were beginning to lodge in my eyes, but I didn't know why.

Nadir smiled at me then. "You are a very strong woman, Christine. A very noble person."

* * *

I caught a taxi home and took a quick shower before taking off towards the Opera House. Meg was not home. Erik and I met early for our music lesson. It seemed that both of us had been eager to see each other after last night.

I smiled at the sight of him sitting at the piano bench, and my heart leapt when he turned and greeted me.

"Nadir tells me that you stopped by."

"Yep."

"Any particular reason?" He asked with a teasing smile. I sat down next to him, snaking an arm across his back. He pulled me towards him and I leaned my head on his shoulder. I couldn't tell if he already knew the answer or if he was genuinely curious.

"I wanted to see you."

Erik took in a deep breath and was silent for a moment, exhaling. I relished the feeling of his expanding and contracting chest.

"I love you, Christine."

"I love you, Erik."

There was silence again, peaceful silence. I closed my eyes, and after a while I felt his fingers running through my hair.

"That feels wonderful," I murmured.

"You are wonderful, my dear," Erik countered, and I felt his lips press against my hair, and then my temples.

"I love you," I repeated softly. Erik wrapped both arms around me and I twisted to face him. He lifted my chin as we looked into each other's eyes.

"I thought about you today," he said in his Angel's voice.

I smiled. "Really?"

"Yes. And I thought that I should like to be with you forever."

"I like that idea."

Erik pressed his forehead against mine.

"Would you sing for me?"

"Of course. But only if you sing for me."

"I wouldn't dream of it any other way." He rotated me gently, and then pulled me closer, my back pressing into his chest. He enclosed me in his arms again. Pushing back a lock of hair from my face, he spoke quietly into my ear.

"Would you stay with me?" He asked. I shivered.

"Yes."

"Forever?"

"Only if I get to keep you, forever, too."

"And you will sing for me… for the world?"

"Yes," I said, without hesitation. I was so blissfully happy in his arms, like nothing could ever go wrong between us.

"Christine…" He kissed my cheek. "Tell me there is no one else."

I closed my eyes dreamily. "Why would there be anyone else?"

"There was that boy… Raoul."

I hardly registered his use of the past tense. We were on the same wavelength. "He doesn't matter anymore, Erik. I love you."

"Do you promise?"

"Yes."

"Then you have given me the world." He said quietly, and then he pulled me around to face him and kissed me softly on the lips. I linked an arm around his neck and another behind him, running my fingers softly through his hair.

"There could never be another like you for me," I murmured between kisses. "I pledge myself to you."

Erik kissed me with more passion at my words, smoothing his fingers down my back. He pulled away, hugging me close.

"You inspire me so, my dear. We must sing."

"Yes," I agreed, eagerly watching the piano as he pulled away from me and laid his hands on the keys. The music was the same- whether we were kissing or singing- and it was always beautiful.

* * *

The next morning Meg was nearly ecstatic. I wondered if she had caught some of my ridiculously-happy-and-crazy-in-love vibes. She made a lush breakfast, and I sat down to feast, thanking her.

She shrugged.

"What's gotten into you?" I asked mildly.

"Nothing! Life is just beautiful."

I raised an eyebrow at her. "Yeah, because that's a typical eight in the morning Meg Giry response."

Meg laughed. "I'm just happy. Get over it." She popped open a yogurt. "You going into work this morning?"

"Of course, why wouldn't I? I'm at the site today." I tried to keep giddy excitement out of my voice. I would be with Erik today.  
"I don't know… isn't Raoul coming home today?"

"What?" I asked absentmindedly, spearing a melon with my fork.

"Raoul," she repeated. "He's coming home today."

I met her eyes and then processed her words. "Oh, yeah! Right, he is."

"Right." She smiled. "Aren't you excited?"

"Sure," I wobbled my fork between my fingers, watching it glint in the light. "He's meeting me at the site."

"That's cute! What time?"

"I don't know. I guess he'll call me."

"Speaking of which," Meg said, glancing at the clock. "I've got to get to work."

She stood and began to clear her dishes. "What, no one could take your shift today?"

She stuck her tongue out at me. "No. And I still want a raise."

I laughed as she left. After a few more minutes I decided it would be prudent if I too got along to work. Ten minutes later I was dressed and ready. I pet Shadow on he head as he barked at me all the way to the front door. Humming a tune, I got into my car.

" _I was walking a long… minding my business… when out of an orange colored sky… flash! Bam! Alakazam! Wonderful you came by…_" I whistled the small musical interlude. Thinking of Erik, I continued, "_I was humming a tune, drinking in sunshine… when out of that orange colored view… wham! Bam! Alakazam! I got a look at you…_

"_One look and I yelled 'timber!' Watch out for flying glass… '__Cause the ceiling fell in and the bottom fell out-- I went into a spin__ and I started to shout, 'I've been hit! This is it!'_"

And that's how it had been with Erik- I had hardly been paying attention to the strength of my emotions, focusing instead on the mystery of who he was and why I was so attracted to him. But he had grown on me, becoming the Erik that my father had trusted and loved… the man that had promised my father to protect me… and then he became the man that I loved too. I now couldn't imagine life without him. Somehow, my fears about my deformity seemed so unimportant when I was around him… for some reason I just forgot all about them. Erik made me feel beautiful.

I couldn't believe that someone as amazing as him actually took a second glance at me. I had resigned myself to living a loveless life… and then he came along, and I fell, hard. Looking back, I couldn't figure out what had possessed me to date Raoul at all. He was a nice guy, and cute, but… he wasn't Erik. He could never be my Erik.

Erik was so many things to me… I saw him in so many different ways. He was sweet, and thoughtful, and kind… he was incredibly talented, attractive, and intelligent… everything about him amazed me. He was unforgettable.

I came upon the construction site quite unaware of where I was, being lost in my reverie on my angel. And even though I knew he was certainly not an angel, I reflected as I parked and locked my car, he would always be _my _angel.

I swung my keys around my fingers, feeling that unexplainable happiness flow through me again. It was turning out to be a superb week. I was so, desperately in love.

Pushing open the door to the trailer, I founded Erik sitting alone at the table, going through what looked like excel tables.

"Hello, my dear," he said softly. He gestured to the table and I shut the door. "I've brought coffee for you."

"Oh, Erik!" I grinned, sitting down and taking a warm mug in my hands. "You're incredible."

He smiled, but didn't respond. After a while, he looked up at me with a blazing look, and I was rooted to my seat as he reached across the table to touch my cheek.

"How was your night?"

"Excellent," I breathed, leaning into his hand. His eyes were so bright, so beautifully gold. "And yours?"

He smiled. "It was passable."

"Only passable?" I frowned, thinking about him in discomfort and disliking the notion.

"Don't worry yourself, my love."

"Did you not sleep well?"

"I didn't sleep."

"You- didn't?" I asked in surprise. He had said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world for people to not sleep.

"I don't sleep very much. It allows me to accomplish so much more."

"I can imagine." I said, frowning again. Erik laughed at my expression.

"What are you working on?" I asked.

"Financial tables. We have to order more glass for the third floor."

Nadir came in after a spell, another worker with a problem following close on his heels. The three of us discussed the issue for a moment before Nadir and Erik agreed to move into the adjacent room with him, leaving me with the financial papers.

"Is that all right, Christine?" Erik asked, looking deep into my eyes. I flushed.

"Of course. I'll be fine." I watched as he left through the small side door and then sat down to crunch numbers.

My phone rang after what seemed like hours. I glanced at the door, willing Erik to appear. I wondered how much longer they would be. I picked up my phone and flipped it open.

"Hello?"

"Christine."

"Oh, Raoul!" I tried to keep surprise out of my voice. I had nearly forgotten about him…

"Hello," he said, the smile apparent in his voice. "Where are you right now?"

"Well, I'm at the site, like I said yesterday."

"Are you in the trailer?"

"Yes."

The door to the trailer opened, and I saw Raoul standing in the doorway, holding the phone to his ear. I lowered my arm and closed my phone, staring at him standing there, grinning at me, and knowing that soon I would have to break his heart. I would regret seeing him walk back through that door, dejected…

"Raoul," I smiled in greeting, standing up. He crossed the room swiftly, quick to envelope me into a tight hug. He buried his head in my hair.

"Oh, Christine, I missed you so much…"

"Hmmm."

He played with a few of my curls, not letting go of me.

"I don't want to be away from you again."

I shrugged pulling away to look him in the face. He leaned into me and I turned my head, allowing him to kiss me on the cheek.

He smiled at me. I noticed how tan he had gotten.

"You look great," I offered.

He shook his head. "I look like a wreck from too much plane travel. You look gorgeous. You're glowing."

I smiled. "Maybe you should go home and get some rest, if you are so tired."

"No… I needed to see you."

"Right." I remembered that he had wished to speak to me. "Raoul…"

"Oh, Christine, don't say anymore." And without warning he took my face into his hands and kissed me fiercely. I tried to pull away as lightly as possible, not wanting to hurt his feelings. I let out a nervous sort of laugh and pulled out a chair.

"Why don't you sit?"

We both sat at the table, and Raoul took both of my hands in his. I shrugged away the uncomfortable feeling. I would try to make this as easy for him as possible.

He stared into my eyes, his gaze a brilliant, delighted blue.

"It's crazy how much I missed you. You are even more beautiful than I remember."

I sighed. "Raoul, I need to tell you something."

"And I need to ask you something."

I nodded, but he just kept smiling, his eyes tracing every feature of my face. I cleared my throat.

"I think I'd like to take you with me on my next trip."

I didn't know what to say to that. When he was done with this particular line of thought, I would tell him everything.

"I think… I think I'd like to take you with me on every trip."

I blinked, suddenly wary of where this was going.

"Raoul-"

"I think I'd like to have you with me everywhere…" He looked down at our entwined hands and stroked my palm. "I think I'd love to be with you, to have you and to hold you… 'Till death do us part."

I was too horrified to speak. I stared at him in utter shock and he smiled even more widely.

"Christine Daae, I love you." He reached into his pocket, and drew out a small box. My heart rate picked up. I could not believe what was happening. This wasn't right—this wasn't right at all… I was supposed to tell him that I didn't love him, that we must break off our relationship… was he really so deluded?

"Raoul, I-"

"Shh, Christine. I know. I love you so much… I can't be without you. And, I know that you must feel the same way."

"Oh, Raoul-" I began in anguish. I couldn't believe I was about to break his heart like this.

"I know," he said softly. "I know…" He sighed, looking my in the eyes for a moment. It seemed to calm him. I drew a deep breath, ready to tell him everything, and he opened the box and pulled out the sparkling diamond ring. He slid off of his seat and kneeled on one knee, holding the ring up into me with an angelic, loving expression on his sculpted face.

"Christine Daae, you are the love of my life. I want to spend the rest of my life by your side. Take this ring with love… and marry me."

I felt tears spring to my eyes. _Raoul, Raoul… I'm so sorry_… My throat was clogged with tears and I couldn't form words. I had to tell him… what an awful way to break someone's heart!

But he seemed to misinterpret my tears. "Oh, Christine…" And he took my left hand in his. Warning bells went off in my head.

"Raoul- wait-"

"I love you, so," he was saying. He singled out my fourth finger. "I will make you so happy…"

"Raoul, I have to tell you-"

"We can live anywhere… I can give you everything…" He didn't seem to be listening to me, lost as he was in his own little dream world.

"Raoul, you don't understand-" I tried to pull my hand any from him, starting to feel a little nervous. I could foresee so many situations in which this could go very, very badly.

He slid the ring onto my finger and leaned down to kiss the back of my hand.

"I love you, Christine, and I am so honored to have your hand in marriage."

I was milliseconds away from it. Milliseconds away from pulling my hand away, taking off his ring, and explaining kindly, but firmly, that I didn't love him, and that I didn't want to marry him. Milliseconds that could have saved me from tragedy…

Because at that very moment, as Raoul kissed me and pledged his love, the little side door opened, and I looked up, fear instantly ripping into my heart.

Nadir had seen and heard, and before I could say a word, or even move my hand from Raoul's grip, Nadir fixed me with the sharpest, most hateful glare I had ever seen in his jade eyes, and disappeared again through the door.

* * *

**Yes! Ha ha! **

**You guys don't know how long I've imagined that scene. What fun. I'm sorry this update took so long. This was a real tough chapter to write. Like I said at the beginning, I had no idea how Erik was going to get out of his little dilemma. And then I thought—wait, he's Erik. He can just hypnotize her and lie. That sounds good. And so that is what happened, in case you were wondering. Christine got hypnotized. She doesn't remember anything about the whole Iran fiasco.**

**This will come back to bite Erik later. But don't worry. I've got a deviously delightful plan for that too. **

**So… I really hope you love it. I like it. I've tried to craft it perfectly. It is the beginning of the Big Fail. Very important scene. There were some parts I thought were a little scratchy, but all in all, I'm happy.**

**I told you guys that Raoul's persistence and his failure to see what's up was going to become a problem! ******

**Hee hee. So now everyone is angry.**

**Just saying- I really love Nadir. I loved him in all of the books, and was very irate when ALW cut him out of the story. So I favor a rather strong Nadir character. I have another phantom story I'm planning on posting after this one, and that one has a crazy strong Nadir who does a lot of weird stuff to interfere in the plot. So… yeah. That's why he's always around. **

**Anyway, please review if you can. I really want to know what you guys think of the beginning of the Big Fail. To me it seems so different because I know what's coming. Maybe it makes no sense to you.**

**Just by the way- the first song, "Because I Love Her" is from the Fox animated film The Swan Princess Three (it's a great set of movies if you've never seen them, really. I love them. I used to watch them all the time when I was little.) I edited the lyrics a bit to fit my purpose. So, sorry to the writers of that song. The second song is by Natalie Cole- "Orange Colored Sky."**

**Thank you so much for reading!  
I sincerely love you guys!  
**

**~IceCliff**


	18. Chapter 18

**I'm sorry I'm such a failure. I meant to update, I really did. This chapter gave me so many problems, and it was really difficult to write. I apologize. There is no excuse for taking a year to update. I promise I am going to try harder with these next chapters. Please forgive me.**

**I really don't like Raoul. I just finished watching the 2004 movie again, and I have to say, he just really irritates me. I keep yelling at the screen- Christine, why? Why? It's all just so unfair. Erik, I love you! I love you! I love Mme. Giry, too. She's awesome!**

**Just some general comments I have on that movie—first of all, why do Christine and Raoul CHARGE loudly up the stairs of ERIK'S opera house SINGING really loudly, when Christine should know that a) Erik would probably notice people stomping up his stairs, and b) he would hear her voice and follow it?**

**And second—how stupid can we get, people? Don't you think the freakin OPERA GHOST would notice if a hundred POLICEMEN just walked into his Opera House one day? I mean, really. He's ERIK.**

**And finally… I cannot stand what Raoul says in the graveyard—"No, Christine, Wait! Wait! Whatever you may believe, this man, this thing, is not your father!"**

**Well, obviously she knows it's not her father. I mean, seriously. She was all over the guy during MoTN. I'm pretty sure she knows it's not her father.**

**I do love the part when Raoul is running down the stairs all macho and I'm-gonna-save-Christine and then he falls through a hole in the floor. That was entertaining. I played it over twice. And Mme. Giry totally knew what was going down. I love her. I love her almost as much as I love Nadir, and that is really saying something.**

**All right, but anyway… I've been thinking more about how different this story will soon be, and hoping that you guys still like it. I can't say precisely how long it will be, but it will be substantial. They all have so much to work out… Poor characters…**

**Anyway! I love you guys! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR HELPING ME REACH 100 REVIEWS! YOU GUYS ROCK!**

**And just for that… I'll give you chapter 18! (even though I'm writing this after I have completed this chapter I have to say that I really don't like it at all… it is quite awful in my opinion… but read on and form your own opinions!)**

_Erik hardly looked up at the sound of Nadir closing the door again. He calculated a few numbers in his head and wrote the sum on the paper he passed to the worker. _

_"Does that make sense to you?" He asked, showing the man each successive calculation._

_The man nodded, taking the paper into his hands, and Erik glanced up at Nadir, who stood next the door, rigid and pale._

_Erik frowned. "What did she say?"_

_Nadir tensed, his fists crumbling the small piece of paper he had been holding, with the technical question he was meant to pose to Christine._

_"I believe she said yes."_

_Erik's eyes narrowed. "What are you saying, Nadir? It wasn't a yes or no question."_

_"No." The Iranian shook his head and met eyes with Erik. "I believe she said yes to the proposal."_

My hand began to sweat in Raoul's as my mind slowly, painfully, recreated the image of Nadir's face. I saw the door open, remembered his blazing eyes, and then saw the door slam shut, all in perfect clarity and sound. And I remembered that Erik, my dear beloved Erik, was sitting right behind that door. I suddenly felt sick.

I wrenched my hand out of Raoul's and my eyes began seeing the present again. I knew I had to get to Erik before Nadir said anything.

"Christine?"

Raoul pulled back at my hand as I tried to move forward, and I thrust away from him again. I heard commotion coming from behind the wall and it took all my self- control to keep from crying out. I was so close—if only I wasn't being held back! It was too frustrating to be only a few feet away from salvation and yet to miss it so completely… I had to get through that door!

Raoul latched onto my hips almost playfully and pulled me with surprising strength against his chest. My ears were rushing. All I could hear, all I could see and think about was Erik, and that I _must_ explain, _must_ make him understand… my head was swimming with the possibilities… that perhaps Nadir had not said anything… and perhaps he had said _everything_…

I strained against Raoul's grasp and he gripped me tighter, apparently thinking that I was playacting. I began to tear with frustration. Raoul pushed back a lock of my hair and started whispering in my ear.

"Erik…" I whispered, closing my eyes and gathering the strength to push away from Raoul.

"What, Christine?"

Raoul took my hand and in intense anger I remembered the offending metal that had caused this. Tearing my fingers away, I wrenched the ring off of my finger and spun to face him.

He looked a little confused as I shoved it into his face.

"This isn't the way I wanted to do this Raoul, but this is the way it happened." I huffed a bit and pushed another lock of hair off my sweating forehead. "I won't marry you. I can't."

"What-" Raoul stuttered. "Christine, why?" I wanted to feel remorse for the pain apparent in his eyes, but I couldn't. I was just too frustrated—too angry with him for ruining everything… too angry with _myself…_

"Why?" I asked, "why? Because I don't love you, that's why!"

Raoul blinked a single tear out his eye as he bent slowly to pick up the ring that I had thrown at him. He stared at me blankly. "I don't understand. You said—I thought—I cared so much for you, Christine… I did everything for you—"

I tried to suppress hysterical laughter. How had he been so, so wrong, about the way that I felt? Was I really such a great actress? I have never meant for any of this mess. All I wanted was Erik… Erik, the artist, who could fix everything with a stroke of his paintbrush… the musician, who could melt my heart with a strum of his strings… _Erik…_ I had to get to him.

Finally finding myself unrestrained by Raoul, I lunged toward the door. My fingers were shaking so badly that I could hardly twist the handle, but I suddenly found it twisting easily, and the pressure was coming towards me, pushing me backwards, ever farther away from Erik…

And once again Nadir stood before me, his eyes ablaze with anger and bitter, bitter disappointment.

"Nadir-" I whispered, feeling the loss of Erik's presence in the trailer. I sensed, with sudden, awful certainty, that Erik knew, and that he had fled… and if he did not want to be found, I would never, ever find him…

I heard Raoul breathing awkwardly behind me, and felt a twinge of regret for tears that could have been avoided. It was to him that Nadir addressed his first comment.

"Mr. De Chagny, I think it would be appropriate for you to leave the site now. You may take your bride with you. We are finished for today."

Raoul was caught speechless. He dragged his gaze towards me, waiting for me to correct Nadir's error.

I stuttered a little, almost afraid to meet Nadir's eyes.

"I am not his bride," I whispered.

Raoul dropped his eyes to his feet, as if he had holding on to that one last hope that I would still say yes.

Nadir seemed either not to hear or to be unfazed by what I said. He continued a little further into the room, and I could see through the closed door behind him that Erik was indeed gone. My heart squeezed a little tighter as I felt palpably the time slipping by. I had to find Erik now.

"Ms. Daae, the workers have continued with their work. If you would like to oversee what Mr. Destler has proscribed for them, please—"

"Oh, Nadir, cut the crap!"

"Excuse me?"

"Don't talk to me like we're strangers."

"Shall I speak to you like you are a traitor, then? Would that be more… accurate? More to your liking, _Christine_?"

Real tears began to leak out of my eyes as I suppressed a sob. I had never heard Nadir talk to me like this… I had never seen him talk to anyone like this.

"Christine, what is he talking about?" Raoul looked from me to Nadir in numbed shock.

"Nadir, please," I begged softly, "_please_. Tell me where he is."

"No. I told you. _I told you not to hurt him._"

"Where who is?" Raoul asked again.

"I need him," I choked on my tears. "Please don't take him away from me."

"If you needed him, you would not accept another's hand in marriage!"

"I didn't! I didn't! I'm not going to marry anyone!"

"Christine, is there someone else?" Raoul looked at me almost shyly.

The inanity of this question brought my irritation with the situation to the brink and I exploded.

"YES! Yes, there is someone else and I love him!" Raoul was shocked into tears, but I couldn't bring myself to care. I rounded on Nadir. "Now, _tell me where he is, _Nadir, or I _swear_-"

Nadir took a giant, threatening step forward that placed him directly before me.

"You swear what, Christine? What? What are you going to do to me? You promised me you would love him and you betrayed him, and I am never going to let you near him again."

"You don't understand!" I wailed. "I never lied to you-"

"Then why all of this pretense with Mr. De Chagny? Who were you trying to fool?"

"I don't know! I messed up, I'm sorry. But Nadir—I love him!"

"I'm sorry if I don't believe you. I cannot believe you. Those who spin a web of lies…"

I angrily slammed my hands on the table. "Don't pull that kind of asinine platitude on me. Where is Erik?"

"He doesn't belong to you, anymore." Nadir narrowed his eyes to match my ire.

"We have always belonged to each other," I whispered dangerously.

"I _do not believe you_."

"Dammit, Nadir! Dammit!" I collapsed into a chair, finally giving into my sobs. I needed Erik, I needed him! Where could he have gone? …perhaps to the only place I ever found him when I truly needed him?

I sprang out of my chair, grabbing my back and heading for the outside door, but Nadir caught my arm.

"He isn't there. He isn't going back to the Opera House."

I turned to face him, wanted to tear his eyes out, if he would only tell me where Erik was. But… I had my bag in my hands, didn't I? I threw my purse on the table and grabbed hold of my cell phone. I dialed Erik's number with numbed hands and waited for the response.

"We're sorry," the lady pronounced cheerfully, "the party you are trying to reach has been disconnected."

"_No!_" I screeched, slamming my phone shut. "No… Erik…" I laid my head in my arms, feeling a curious deadness flooding my limbs. If I didn't have Erik, I didn't have anything… I had no reason, no desire to live…

Raoul finally decided to speak up again. "Who's Erik?"

"No one," Nadir said forcefully.

"He's an angel…"

"He is not your angel any longer." Nadir said harshly.

"Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up!" I cried, sobbing into my forearms.

"Mr. De Changy, one again, I think it would be wise for you to leave now."

"No," Raoul said, and for the first time in my life I heard real anger in his voice. "No, I want to know what is going on. Christine, what the hell is up with you?"

I shook my head, silent. Nadir was more than happy to chime in.

"She is not a good woman to be involved with. I suggest that you leave it alone."

"You don't know what you're talking about, Nadir!" I snapped, standing and turning to face them again.

"Well then tell me what he's talking about!" Raoul shouted.

"Oh, Raoul-"

"Don't! Don't play me like I'm a little kid. You cheated on me, Christine. The least I deserve is the truth."

"Is wasn't like that..."

Raoul snorted. "Justify it to yourself however you'd like, but at least tell me the truth."

I slid my eyes towards Nadir, who stood angrily with his arms crossed over his chest, and then I sighed.

"Erik was my father's student."

Raoul blinked. "So you were old friends, is that it?"

"Not exactly. I didn't know Erik until very recently."

"But he reminded you of dear old Papa."

"Raoul!" I was shocked at his capacity for viciousness. My father's memory was sacred; only to be spoken from the lips of an angel… In my mind I saw Erik, holding me on the roof as I cried… I blinked rapidly as Raoul began to shout again, dissolving my image and reminding me that Erik was gone, and going further away each second we wasted…

"What? Do you expect me to marry the guy? I love you, Christine!"

I shrugged. "Erik is very special to me. I'm sorry, Raoul. You were special too, but in a different way. I can't explain it to you."

"Well does this mystery man have a last name?" He snarled.

"Destler. Erik Destler."

Raoul just stared at me, and I turned back on Nadir, ready to be reunited with my one and only.

"I need to find him," I reiterated calmly.

"You will not."

"You can't stop me!" I failed miserably at restraining my anger.

"Watch me!" Nadir threatened. His accent thickened with his ugly expression, and it caught Raoul's attention.

"How do you know Erik, Nadir?"

Nadir frowned in Raoul's general direction, but kept his furious gaze locked on my face.

"We met in Iran."

Raoul nodded, stroking his chin a bit with his forefinger. "And about what time was that?"

"It may have been around 2003. Why do you ask?"

Raoul shrugged again, falling back into silence. I watched the two of them, feeling that any conversation that did not include Erik's whereabouts was a useless one. I voiced this sentiment to Nadir, who once again turned on me with livid invective, and Raoul pulled out his Blackberry.

"Did you say 2003?"

No one responded to him, and as Nadir and I continued to argue, Raoul was diligently searching his Blackberry for something.

"Just give me one more chance, Nadir, and I promise you that-"

"You already promised me. And you promised him. There is no going back from breaking a promise to Erik."

"But he loves me! Can't we move on from this?"

"He may love you, but that doesn't mean you are good for him. I am his friend, and I will keep bad things away from him."

"Don't do this, Nadir, please!"

He frowned at me, and my anger resurfaced.

"What are you talking about with all of this 'saving my friend from evil' thing? What about Carla? What about your evil, vindictive sister? Did you save him from her?"

A vein pulsed in Nadir's forehead.

"Don't talk about my sister! You have no understanding of any of this!"

"Don't I? Do you think I'm blind-"

"Both of you stop!"

Nadir and I turned to look at Raoul as if to say, why are you still here?

He narrowed in on something on his Blackberry.

"Did you say Carla?"

"Yes," Nadir answered stiffly. "My sister."

"Carla Khan?"

"Yes."

Raoul looked at both of us.

"I think we have all been played," he said finally.

I blinked. "What are you talking about, Raoul?"

He gestured for us to sit down, but I waved a hand.

"Don't bother with it. Just tell us what's up." I was sick of all the drama of the day; I just wanted solid facts. Solid locations for Erik's whereabouts.

"I don't think his name is Erik Destler, for one thing."

"...what?" I asked. "What do you mean-"

Nadir suddenly leeched forward and grabbed the Blackberry from Raoul's hands.

"Hey! Let go- what are you-"

Raoul's surprisingly agile surfer's reflexes ensured that he retained control of the Blackberry, but Nadir's sudden movements inspired a certain fear of the unknown within me. What fresh horror, what new lie was this, that Nadir was trying to protect? How much more abuse was my heart going to endure today? Nadir's actions seemed to motivate Raoul even more, because he focused his eyes on me and began to talk very quickly.

"In 2003 my father had a business dealing in Iran with a man named E. Devereux-"

"Stop!" Nadir warned. "You don't know what you doing!"

Raoul even started to smile a bit, and I figured that it gave him true satisfaction to slander my beloved's name right before me.

"But, his name is Destler..."

"I think not, Christine. See, E. Devereux was very high up in the Iranian government, and that is why my parents dealt with him. But he could only go so high... because he was in reality a French musician."

I blinked, feeling a raw bubble of disillusionment grow inside of me. Erik... Devereux? My Erik? I began to tear. I thought I had finally uncovered all of the layers of him. I had thought that he truly loved me!

_Oh Erik!_ Why hadn't I realized, why hadn't I realized? Why couldn't I see through this last lie of yours? Destler was no more a French name than Daae!

In the back of my mind, something else started to resurface, something incredibly painful and powerful, that I had repressed for some reason... and as I tried to remember what it was, Nadir sank into a chair helplessly, and Raoul continued.

"The deal was going to be very lucrative," Raoul said. "My father was thus very involved in every aspect of it. That is, until E. Devereux withdrew from the deal."

Raoul paused for dramatic effect and I waited for my doom to crash down upon me.

"E. Devereux was charged with murder in the first degree by Carla Khan, a member of the High Judiciary. He had murdered three American citizens on Iranian soil. His case was never heard. E. Devereux's body was found two weeks later, eaten by crows to the point that it could not be identified. When they later checked the archives, no E. Devereux was listed to have been born in France, or having any visa to visit America or any other country."

There was profound silence in the room. I vaguely recognized the feeling of tears streaming from my eyes. My Erik... a murderer? _My Erik?_

"No." I said finally. "No, you must be mistaken. There are a thousand names that begin with E. This is not my Erik."

Raoul nearly sneered at me. "And that is why your friend over there jumped at me? Are you really that blind, Christine?"

I wouldn't accept it. I couldn't! Not like this. "No!" I shouted, covering my ears with my hands. "I don't care, I don't want to know! Nadir, _dammit_! Tell me where he went!"

Nadir had gone pale. All the fire had drained out of his eyes, and he looked at me tiredly.

"He went to the airport," Nadir intoned softly. "He said he was going back."

My heart jumped into a pool of ice. "Back where?" I whispered. "France?"

Nadir shook his head slowly. "No... back to where it all started."

I binked, and then new tears leaked from my eyes.

"New Hampshire."

Nadir merely nodded, running his fingers through his thick hair, and I grabbed my purse, threw it over my shoulder, and ran for the door. Raoul caught my arm, trying to pull me back with him.

"Christine, think about what you're doing! This man is a murderer-"

I tried desperately to unhand myself. My Erik was not a murderer. It was a fluke… it was Carla's doing… Raoul's plot to destroy me… I told myself anything to keep from imagining that what Raoul had said was actually true.

I yanked my arm free and ran out the door and towards my car as fast as I could. I was going to find Erik. I was going… going back to New Hampshire.

I blocked everything from my mind except the image of his face. I refused to think about what I was doing, about where I was going… Erik was more important that the ghosts of our past. He had to be. I would not lose him in New Hampshire the same way I lost my father in New Hampshire. I sped home, flicking tears out of my eyes and hardly paying attention to anything but the color and shape of Erik's beautiful eyes. I needed him, now. He was a part of me, had always been… and we could not separate. I loved him too much.

When I arrived at my house I ran home, throwing three sweatshirts and two pairs of jeans into a small bag. I didn't care what I brought— as long as I was with Erik I was home.

The only airline that had a ticket available for that night was a tiny, probably unreliable northwestern airline flight that left at ten at night. I bought it without a second thought. I breathed in deeply and closed my eyes. _I'm going to New Hampshire… New Hampshire…_ Another tear leaked out of my eyes and I opened them as my ticket confirmation printed. I was going to have to face the sight of Concord Airport. I was going to have to breath New Hampshire air… see my old house… see the happy children living in it… the couples in love.. knowing that I could have had all of that, any of that… _what if I see him again? Oh G-d…_ I couldn't stomach the sight of Richard. I wouldn't be able to handle seeing him married, in love with another girl, happy with children that look just like him… beautiful, smart… unblemished… no deformities….

"Dammit, Erik!" I screamed. He had gone to the one place where he knew I couldn't follow… but I was going to. I had to. I zipped my bag and started down the stairs again, writing Meg a quick note that I knew she would not appreciate anyway. I was throwing my entire life away… my career, my friends, my sanity… all for my angel, my teacher, my phantom… _I love you, Erik…_

* * *

I could not sleep on the plane. I lied awake, watching the other passengers, and imagining what sort of lives they led, and why they were going to New Hampshire. Maybe that young teenager was flying home to see her family again? _That life was taken away from me. _Maybe that old man was flying in from retirement to visit grandchildren? _My father would never be able to visit me again… _Was that couple flying for an engagement party? A marriage? _Simple love, beautiful love… the kind that was always denied me._

_Simple love_… however much I might treasure it, my love for Erik was not simple. He was a mysterious man, filled with hate, anger, regret, and many secrets… and I, I was a monster. A deformed, cynical, angry, sad monster. But together, somehow, we made beautiful music. I realized with unattached curiosity that I didn't care whether or not Raoul's story was true anymore. Erik could be a serial killer and it wouldn't make a difference. I couldn't survive without him, and if that is what his past was then I wasn't going to care. Erik was my perfection; my beautiful angel, my protector… I needed to lean on him. He was the strong one, the one who had visions, hopes for the future. I relied on him for my sanity, for my insanity, for my will to live and belief in the kindness of human nature. He completed me.

I knew I had wronged Raoul. I would be the first one to admit that I played him. But somehow, when Erik was concerned, everything seemed justified. Being with him was such a surreal experience that the real world never seemed to exist. It was just us, suspended in time, in music…

"May I get you something, Miss?" The blonde Stewardess asked me kindly.

"No, thank you. How much longer until we land?"

"About one hour."

I nodded at her and she turned to the passenger in the seat beside me. I stared out the window at the passing farms and roads… _Oh, New Hampshire… cry for me… cry for my father, for my lost life… for Erik… _I closed my eyes and tried to sleep, but all I could think of was Erik…

_

* * *

_

Erik approached a gray, cracked gravestone. It was a lonely monument, dug a few paces away from the main graveyard, beneath a towering evergreen which littered pine needles all across the grave.

_Erik remembered digging the grave… he remembered filling it with sheets of music he had worked on with Sir… he remembered chiseling the words into the headstone and hammering the stone into the soft ground over the newly covered grave. A grave that was empty… a grave that never should have needed to be dug. His eyes traced his teenage handiwork._

Gustave Daae. 1950-2006. Beloved Father, Teacher, Friend, and Angel.

_A few tears fell from his eyes, and Erik dashed them away quickly._

"_Sir… she doesn't love me…" he whispered. He kneeled before the grave, clutched onto the headstone, and suppressed his tears. He was stronger than this. He would not cry…_

_He squeezed his eyes shut, listening intently for anything, for the faintest notes of the violin… when he opened his eyes again he had gained control over himself. He stared stonily in front of him and thought of her face…. Her beautiful, alabaster face… _

"Was it really," _he asked the sky,_ "was it really necessary to have so fresh and young a face, a forehead so shy and always ready to cover itself with the pink blush of modesty in order _to give herself in marriage to another_? Surely there should be some limit to hypocrisy and lying!"

_He could hardly believe what she had done. Why had she done it? Had she remembered Iran again, so soon? Usually his hypnosis techniques were solid, but with Christine involved he could never really keep his head straight… had he forgotten something? Had she been playing him this whole time?_

_He shook his head. How could a daughter of Sir be so… heartbreaking? She had broken her promise…_

_Erik threw his head up to the sky and prayed for his pain to be taken away, for his anguish to leave him… for his soul to leave him, if that's what it took… If he couldn't love her then he never wanted to love anyone again… not even his music._

Oh, Christine…

* * *

I stepped into the terminal of Concord airport feeling tired, scared, and uncomfortable. I was in New Hampshire.

I closed my eyes, ran my fingers through my hair, and then picked up my bag and started walking. The time difference was already getting to me; it was about four in the morning in Carmel, but it was a bright seven o'clock in New Hampshire. The sun was dawning on land that I didn't trust. As I walked I realized how hastily I had acted. I had no hotel reservations, no cash, and no clue where in the state Erik might be. All I had was my bag and my American Express credit card. As far as I knew no taxis accepted American Express. I sighed, feeling the heaviness of my eyelids as they drooped down over my eyes.

My best bet at finding Erik was to go back to my old town. I found a bus route map and blinked at it, trying to make sense of the lines swimming in front of my eyes. I needed sleep. I took the map with me and walked out of the terminal, squinting into the obnoxious sun and walking down the crowded street towards the Days Inn. I would sleep, and then I would find Erik.

My cell phone woke me up three hours later. I grunted, stretching languorously in the delicious softness of my bed. The ringing stopped, and as I was about to drift off again, my phone buzzed and started up again. I glared at it, but when the noise didn't stop I reached over and flipped it open.

"Hello?"

"Christine what the hell are you doing?"

"Meg," I began sleepily, "I—"

"You _what?_" She yelled. "You what? Don't tell me you're sorry. Don't even try. I'm so sick of this Christine! I'm sick of you running off and being disloyal to your friends and blowing off people who care about you. What the hell is going on?"

I blinked. "I guess you've talked to Raoul."

"Yeah I talked to Raoul! A guy who loves you! He's heartbroken. I thought we talked about this. You told me that you and Raoul talked about it. That you had stopped seeing this Erik. I thought you were better than this, Christine."

"Meg, you don't understand—"

"No, I never understand you, do I? Because you're the only one in the entire damned world who ever had a problem, who has ever cried about love, who ever had something about themselves that embarrassed them. You're right, I'll never understand you."

"Meg, please!" I rubbed my eyes. As hard as it was to own up to my own failures as a friend, I knew that I wanted Meg in my life. She had always been loyal and kind to me and I loved her.

"Please what?"

I shrugged. "I don't know," I whispered. "I've been terrible to you. I know I have. And to Raoul, too. But please believe me when I tell you that my relationship with Erik is worth everything to me. I love him. I can't live without him."

Meg snorted, and I continued quickly.

"I never meant to make it seem like my problems were greater than everyone else's… but I've seen and done things that no one, especially not a young girl, should ever have to do… and it's turned me into a bitter, awful person. I'm sorry, Meg. Truly. For what it's worth, I want you to know that I'm willing to do anything it takes to get you to forgive me. You are my true and greatest friend. I don't want to lose you."

Meg sighed on the other line. "For starters," she began in a numbed voice, which I took to mean that she hadn't forgiven me yet but she also wasn't completely writing me off, "tell me why you are back in New Hampshire."

"Erik is here."

"You told me you wouldn't ever go back there."

"I know." I fingered a thread from my covers. "But I had to find him."

"And what are you going to do when you do find him?"

"I don't know…"

"You should probably figure that out."

"Yeah."

There was silence on the line.

"Just call me when you are on the flight home, and then we are going to sit down and have a nice, long talk, okay?"

I nodded, relieved that we were able to work things out even a little bit.

"Thank you Meg. I will see you soon." I paused. "I love you."

"I love you too, Chrissie," she said in a softer voice.

We hung up and I stretched again. I was still tired, but my need to find Erik was greater than my desire to sleep.

I leaned over the side of my bed to dig through my bag for fresh clothes, and then shuffled to the bathroom to brush my teeth and get dressed. After requesting a late checkout, I took an apple from the lobby and crunched into it as I walked back out into the day. I was able to find an ATM that accepted my card, and I printed out five twenty dollar bills. A lone taxi was sitting by the curb as I walked out, and I hailed him, hoping he wasn't waiting for someone else. He graciously invited me in and I took a deep breath, strapped my seat belt and said, "To town hall, please."

The taxi driver nodded at me and I felt the slight jolt as we began to move forward. I stared out the window, horrified to see all of the things I remembered about Concord, all of the places my father and I had visited when I was little…

There was little traffic, and I arrived in town around lunch time. I asked the driver to drop me off in front of a little diner that I was sure my father and I had never set foot in, and then paid him before he drove off. I did not want to visit any place that would remind me of what had happened if I could help it.

The diner had only three other customers, all sitting separately, and I felt more comfortable knowing that this was not a major town hangout. It meant that it was less likely for me to see someone I knew, or for someone else to recognize me and start talking. If there was one thing I knew about a small town, it was that word got around very fast.

I sat down in an obscure seat and ordered a tuna sandwich and coffee. I wanted to have full possession of my faculties when I faced Erik. The waitress was timely with bringing my food and I sat a while after I had finished eating, contemplating all the places where Erik might be.

The last thing I wanted was to return to my old house, so I desperately hoped that he hadn't gone there. Perhaps… my old school? But Erik was homed schooled, so he would have no connection there. I sighed and spun my empty coffee cup between my fingers. Where else could he have gone? There was an old cemetery close to my house, but my father had been buried elsewhere, after the police had taken his body for an autopsy. I swallowed. I had never been back to visit my father's grave… I never had the guts…

"Are you done, Miss?"

"Wha—" I looked up at the waitress. She raised her eyebrows.

"Oh, yes, thank you." I handed her my dishes and left a small tip on the counter. Running my fingers through my hair, I left the diner and turned up the street, walking towards the center of town. I wasn't ready to visit my father's grave… I didn't know if I would ever really be ready for that. And yet… if it was the only way to find Erik…

There were more people now, walking every which way and stopping along the sidewalks to converse. I was starting to feel incredibly uncomfortable. The odds of meeting someone from my past had suddenly tripled. I ducked my head and walked a little more quickly, hoping to find a taxi that could take me to the graveyard.

"Fancy a historical tour of South Hooksett, Miss?" A teenage boy accosted me. I jerked my arm away from him rather rudely, but I didn't even turn back to see his face. All I knew was that I needed to get out of there as soon as possible.

And that's when I saw him.

There was a small crowd of people surrounding him, a few obviously photographers for the local paper. He stood elevated on a small dais as he spoke. The sign above his head read Re-elect Mayor Richard Kaye.

I wanted to throw up. As I stared at his fake smile, his artfully combed hair and tailored suit, I felt a surge of rage run throw me. How could a man so vile, so full of hatred and bigotry be elected mayor? I turned from the sight and ran, ran hard and fast, as far as my legs could take me from this town. I wanted nothing to do with Concord for the rest of my life. I never wanted to step foot in this state again…

My breathing became too heavy and I had to stop to catch my breath. I leaned up against a tall tree and closed my eyes, wishing for some salvation… and from the heavens I heard a lovely angelic voice, singing softly on the wind. I smiled, feeling the breeze of love caress my cheek and calm my anger._ Oh, Erik…_

My eyes snapped open. That was him! I was hearing his voice! Was I finally going crazy, or was he here somewhere?

"Erik?" I whispered into the rough bark. There was no response but the laughing of the wind. But I knew, I knew that I had heard him! "Erik," I said again, peering around the tree. There was nothing but the endless expanse of forest. I stepped into the thicket of trees, closing my eyes again and trying to figure the direction of the sound. I had a lot of on-the-spot training finding my way through the Canadian forests… and now it would serve me well. I sprinted over falling logs and sprouting weeds, past scurrying squirrels and frightened deer. I was careful to listen for moose as I moved, because a face-off with an angry moose would not end well for me. The forest ended and opened up into a clearing. I burst through the last branch, eager to see Erik's face, and only to find an empty farm stretching for as far as the eye could see. I sighed, letting my shoulders drop. I rolled my head back to release the tension in my muscles and stared straight up into the sky. _What am I doing here? Oh G-d, I'm back in New Hampshire and I can't breathe and all I need is to see Erik, to love him… please…_

The wind picked up and although I listened as hard as I could, I did not hear Erik. Maybe I really had gone crazy? I sank down into the tall grass, wanting to cry. What was left for me, now? Maybe he wasn't even in New Hampshire anymore, maybe he had left the country, fled from me where I could never find him again…

_A world without Erik…_ I let my head drop into my hands and I took small, quick breaths, willing myself not to cry. _A world without Erik…_ no, no no! I couldn't live, I wouldn't live without him!

A dog barked. Through the haze of my tears I saw the figures of two men walking towards me. My instincts kicked in. I leaped up, spun, and ran back into the forest, running away from their yells and calls. I ran far and fast, until I was fairly unsure of where I was. There was a tiny brooke running below to me, and I sat down next to it, sweeping my hands through the water and splashing my face. The cool liquid was wonderfully refreshing against my hot skin. I crossed my legs underneath me and sat, zen-like, clearing my mind for a few seconds.

And suddenly, there it was again—his voice, swirling around me in a beautiful thread of music that calmed all of my muscles and slowed my heartbeat. His voice was in my head, around my body, wrapping me in an envelope of music and love… but from where was the sound coming? Was it simply his presence within my mind, my heart? Or was he here, somewhere close to me?

I stood, feeling suddenly tranquil. I stilled every negative thought in my mind, rolled my shoulders back, and released the tension in my fingers and toes. Erik was here. I could feel him; feel the flutter of his heart and the ministrations of his mind. I closed my eyes and willed him to appear before me. _Take me to him, _I begged whoever was listening. _Take me to Erik._ I opened my eyes and began walking again, in a straight line, having no sense of where it would take me. But I felt secure in my new faith; I would find him, because there was no reason to exist without him. I would find him because we were one.

I breathed in the cool New Hampshire air and tried not to think about what it had been like to run through these forests as a child, small, innocent, and blemish-free. I missed those days; I missed the dreams of childhood, the feeling of being able to accomplish anything, at any time of day. I missed my father. _Papa, can you hear me?_ Missing someone is not simply wanting them close; it's a matter of needing to hear their voice, remembering their smile, their laugh, the feeling of being together with them, and how togetherness made the two of you a sum greater than the value of the individual parts. _Papa can you hear me? __Papa, how I love you. How I need you. Papa, how I miss you, kissing me goodnight._

Behind my tired eyelids I saw the image of my father, smiling at me, closing the door to my room as I reached out to him through the darkness for another kiss, another hug, another bedtime song… and when I unclosed my eyes, he stood before me. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. _Gustave Daae. 1950-2006. Beloved Father, Teacher, Friend, and Angel._

_Angel._ The word repeated itself in my head. This was not his tombstone. This was not the inscription that I had approved with the police. This wasn't even the right cemetery; it couldn't be, we had buried him a least twenty minutes out of town, and I know I couldn't run that far, and I hadn't been walking for that long…

I blinked, and took a hesitant step towards the grave. It looked as though it had been recently swept, the ground clear and brown, with a few wildflowers poking their heads through the soil. I kneeled before the stone, tracing the letters with my fingers. What was buried here? Certainly not his body. But, when the soul has left, what good is visiting a body? So what was buried here? Memories? Love? Music?

"Oh, Papa…" I felt terrible. How could I speak to him before this grave that I had not made? How could I address him, here? I, his daughter? I, his daughter who had never once had the courage to visit his real grave? How could I speak?

"I'm sorry," I whispered, feeling that my betrayal could never be forgiven. "Oh, papa, I'm sorry! Find it in your heart to forgive me… forgive me, Papa… I couldn't do it! I couldn't! I was afraid…" My words were lost in my own sobs. I missed him so much…

"Is he the one you are asking forgiveness from?" A voice from behind asked. Every muscle in my body tensed. I was frozen to my spot, staring at the gray of the stone.

"What was it that you couldn't do? Tell me that it had all been a lie? That you never loved me? That you chose him? Did I frighten you that much?"

I turned, slowly, to face him. He was leaning up against a tree, gazing at me with a blank and calculating stare. I remained kneeling, feeling the soft dampness of ground beginning to penetrate my jeans.

We stared at each other for a long minute.

"Erik," was all I said.

He regarded me with less indifference than one lends an insect. I felt three degrees colder, just from his eyes. The atmosphere around me had seemed to darken considerably, as if the sun had hidden itself from our pain.

"Why have you come here?" he asked.

"To find you." I dropped my eyes from his, no longer being able to take the deadness in his voice, and the numbness in his gaze.

"I doubt that very much."

"I'm here, aren't I?"

"To seek forgiveness from your father."

I blinked, feeling a stray tear fall from my eye. I hadn't been aware of crying, and did not want to show that kind of emotion before him, not when he was being so remote.

"I'm sorry Erik."

"Are you?" He pushed himself off the tree and approached me, and I could hear the first tendrils of anger starting to grow in his voice. "It sounded to me like you were apologizing to your father, not me."

"Don't mock me."

"I wouldn't dream of it, my dear."

My heart clenched at his acidic use of the endearment. The steps he had taken towards me suddenly felt almost hostile. I closed my eyes. Erik would never hurt me, I told myself. Erik could never hurt me.

"Erik, I came here to talk to you, not to play word games," I said, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Then perhaps you should talk, and I should listen."

I looked up at him, surprised at being given such an easy chance, but glad to have the opportunity. I opened my mouth to begin explaining, but he stepped towards me again, interrupting me.

"Perhaps you should make promises, and I will believe them. Then perhaps you should break those promises." He was standing directly above me, and I couldn't staunch the feeling that I was being threatened. I had seen him angry before, but this sort of anger went far beyond yelling and screaming. His quiet, cat-like movements and his blank, cold demeanor made me wonder just how well I knew him… just how safe I would be with him, alone in the woods…

"Erik," I whispered, "you're scaring me."

"Am I?" He asked. He bent down to be level with me, and a cold lick of fear burst through my stomach. I found myself leaning back, away from him.

"Yes."

"That's too bad," he said, leaning towards me. Before I could even try to move away he had grabbed the backs of my arms and yanked me close.

"Do I frighten you now, Christine? Do I?"

I tried to look away from him; anywhere would be safer than his eyes. I could feel his steady breathing on my neck, and I wished he would scream and shout; I wished he would cry… anything but this cold, frightening apathy. I felt as if he could kill me, right now, with absolutely no qualms. His fingers were tight around my arms.

"Please let me explain what happened," I said, despite the almost overwhelming fear paralyzing my chest.

"No, I think not," he said, his breath falling across my neck. It gave me Goosebumps, and I shivered, trying to lose the eerie feeling. "Oh, is Christine cold? Shall I warm you up?" He began to nuzzle my neck gentle with his lips. I shivered again.

"_No_, Erik…" I needed my space from him, from this man I did not know…

"No?" He asked. He pulled away from me, catching my chin in his hands and forcing me to look at him. Now his anger was shining through.

"No? No, you don't want me close? You used to always want me close. You used to beg to me to hold you, to hold you forever!" He pulled me up into a standing position, and I felt the grate of his fingers against my tender skin, knowing that it would leave bruises. My fear had boiled to a point that I could not stop the march of tears that had begun.

I couldn't form words, couldn't move a muscle… my throat was clogged with tears and I was so, so scared…

"Please don't hurt me," I begged.

"Don't hurt you? _Don't hurt you_?" Erik nearly threw me away from him, dropping my arms and pacing around before me. "What do you think I am, Christine, a monster? A predator? When have I ever hurt you?"

"Erik-" Tears rolled steadily down my cheeks. I just needed to tell him, needed him to know that I loved him—it was that simple! And at the same time, he was frightening me so that I didn't know if I could even get the words out. Who was this man, who spoke to me now? _Who was he? _

"No! No, this is not time for you to speak! That time has passed. And now… and now you will listen to Erik. Yes, Christine, you will listen to Erik. For he has only labored for you, only lived for you… and he will not live without you. Oh, I was prepared to leave, to allow you in live in happiness with that boy, because you had chosen him and you loved him. But now, now that you have had graced me with your presence once more, well, I cannot very well let you go, can I? No… because you _promised._ You promised me that you would be with me forever. One does not break promises. I will not allow you to break that promise."

I shook my head, daring to approach him, even for a few steps. "I don't want to break my promise."

He turned on me, livid. "But you did! You agreed to marry him! And you told me that you loved me!"

"I do love you! I do love you, Erik, and I didn't say yes!"

He snorted, and once again closed the distance between us in a few short steps. My fear was steadily giving way to anger, and I didn't step down. "Don't lie to me, you accepted his proposal! You wore his ring!"

I nearly screamed in frustration. "You misunderstand Erik. You don't know what happened."

Erik glowered. "I know very well what happened! You fell in love with him! You wanted to trick Erik into thinking that you loved him, because you were scared of him, scared of the monster! Oh, you were a very good actress, and I believed every word of it! But it was all a lie, until your boy could come back and claim you as his own. That _perfect_ boy, with his _perfect_ money, and his_ perfect_ face."

"I never lied to you!" I cried, opening my arms in supplication, nearly touching him. "I love you! Raoul was mistaken in thinking that I wanted to marry him. Can't you see? It has all been a mistake!"

But Erik was hardly listening to me. He paced before me once more, grabbing hold of me every so often and glaring hard into my eyes.

"Erik, please! Hear me! It was a mistake!" His movements were beginning to frighten me again. They were too unpredictable to be the actions of a sane man. Had I ever heard him speak in the third person before? Did that not point to the start of madness?

"Yes!" He shouted suddenly, and I jumped. He stood directly in front of me, so I could see nothing but him. "Yes, it was all a mistake, wasn't it? All of it, all of it! I've given you far too much reign, trusted you too much… well, you will still be mine, you will still be Erik's!"

"Erik," I blinked, "what are you talking about?"

"You wanted that pretty boy, didn't you? You wanted him because his face was smooth and young and flawless, because he could take you out like any other man and no one would turn around in the streets!"

"What are you talking about? Your face is just as perfect!"

Erik scoffed. "And now she mocks me."

"Erik, please! You're frightening me. Please, talk to me!" But it was apparent that he was still not hearing me, and I was afraid that he had become lost inside of his own mind. Erik had always been my guide, my savior… I had no idea how to go about saving him, and if he never recovered, he would take both of us down with him…

"Sir was wrong." Erik threw a glare in the direction of my father's grave. "You were wrong, Sir! She doesn't understand. She'll never understand. All she wants is a pretty face."

"I want you, Erik…" I whispered, to no avail.

"You want beauty, don't you? You haven't learned anything! You haven't learned from the fire, at all, have you?"

My heart dropped into the pit of my stomach. Dare he bring up my deformity? "What are you talking about, Erik?"

"You have learned nothing! You are still the same spoiled child who cried the morning that the doctor told her she would have remaining scars!"

"Erik!" How could he? How could he use this against me?

"You have no idea what it's like to be truly deformed, to have people shun you and hate you for an accident."

"Oh, don't I? Don't I, Erik? I lived here for three years, knowing what it's like to be deformed." As he was about to speak, I cut him off. He had no right to talk about something he could never understand. "What do you know about deformity, anyway? What could you know about it, you've always been beautiful! I've had to live with this!" I gestured to my chest, tears flinging wildly from my eyes. I felt we were on the edge of a dangerous precipice, ready to fall off at any step, at any wrong word…

Erik shook his head, angrily searching my eyes with his. "Then why have you given yourself to him? Why would you do this Christine? He could never understand you."

"This has nothing to do with Raoul, Erik! I don't love him, and I never did!"

"It has everything to do with him, everything!" Erik grabbed hold of me. "Don't you understand?" He asked. "Don't you understand that he will just betray you? He will never see past your deformity."

I gasped, hurt and shocked. What was he saying? That no one would ever love me, that no one could ever tolerate my ugliness?

"Raoul isn't like that…" I said, surprised to find myself defending him. I just needed to defend someone, to convince myself that I was in fact loveable.

"Yes he is." Erik said, his tone dropping.

"No…" I wouldn't believe that. I couldn't… I needed hope! Why was the one person I had always relied on for life slowly stripping it away from me?

"Yes. He will betray you."

"No!"

"Yes, he will! He will betray you, just as Richard did!"

In the next two seconds of my life, I crossed a boundary that could never again be traversed. I stripped away all knowledge of good and evil, right and wrong, love and hate, and was suspended inside of a time and place that was all Erik, all under his watchful, omniscient eye. There was no escape for me.

Because as he steadily crushed all of heart's dreams, my anger at the idea that he would even dare to bring up Richard forced my hand, and I slapped him across the face, hard. Like last time, both of us were shocked that I had the audacity to hit him, and I saw that I had once again managed to make a gash on his cheek. But as I pulled my hand away, my gut dropped and I felt myself beginning to faint. My fingers had been sticky from the mud, from running through the forest… and when I pulled them away, the gash on his cheek deepened and I pulled the entire layer of skin away from his face. As I held in my palm the unmistakable visage of the man I loved, I lifted my eyes to behold the most horrible sight I could have ever imagined.

"You can never leave me now," it said. I fainted.

* * *

**Argh, I really hate this chapter. It's terrible. It's awful. There are so many things wrong with it. I'm really very sorry that this is all I can offer you. I only hope that with a new chapter I can redeem my writing skills. I apologize.**

**I hope you're sufficiently surprised. A lot to take in with this chapter. Erik, a murderer? Erik, with a mask? Yes, everything will change now. I hope you can see the blatant change in my Erik. He is getting progressively more Leroux-ish with every word. Anyway, I SINCERELY hope you liked this, even a bit. I apologize greatly for the awful delay in getting this up. It has been about a year.**

**Please enjoy reading.**

**Thank you so much. You make it all worth it.**

**Love,**

**~IceCliff**


	19. Chapter 19

**Hello all! Thank you so very very much for the reviews! I love all of you very dearly. And thus, I am excited to begin the beginning of the end of our dear story. I am going to begin to wrap things up, and hopefully, to explain everything. I'm excited, although I do have to admit that I am surprised about how this story developed. Like I said previously, everything is going to be drastically different from here on out. I hope you like it! Really, I write for your pleasure! Please, please, enjoy, and if you feel so inclined, please leave a review! I'm excited in this chapter to present something new in the history of ETIB... two italicized parts! Enjoy! ****Love always, IceCliff. **

**And so, I present Chapter 19.**

_The man sat in his seat stiffly, uncomfortable being surrounded by so many unfamiliar people. He was trapped in a cage, surrounded by the metal bars of a secret that was held wholly within himself. He sat next to a small white window, feeling the pressure of what had happened beating down on him, forcing him to remember who he had left behind, and why. A woman sat beside him, buckled into her seat, asleep. The plane had been in flight only three hours. He felt acutely the boundaries of his prison, felt completely isolated within his own soul, knowing what was and therefore what couldn't be._

_He knew why the seat next to him remained unoccupied. It had been his own decision, but only because he knew, inevitably, what would have come from bringing her with him. The man looked across into the isle where two dark-skinned children sat playing, with their mother looking on fondly. A mother. A wife. Her husband sat attentively, keeping an eye on his family and his book. A family. A marriage. The man examined the smooth facial structures of these two lovers. Love. Beauty. The twain should never be separated, the man thought to himself. And that is why he could not bring her, why it would have destroyed everything if she knew… could he take the risk that she would understand the unique makeup of his personal hell? She was so fragile, so innocent, so lovely… like an angel. He would come back for her, when the time was right. He would come back._

_The man sighed. And when he came back, he would have a plan. He would be beautiful to her. He just needed to find a way to do it. _

_

* * *

_

Two men, formerly unacquainted, sat in relative indifference across from each other at a plan, dreary table in a drab diner.

_"It's been about a day since she left."_

_"Yes."_

_"Do you think she's all right?"_

_"Is it any concern of yours, anymore?"_

_The blond man glared. "Of course it is. Especially after what I've found out about that monster."_

_The Iranian glowered. "Do not call him a monster, you have no right—"_

_The blond put up his hands. "Fine, forget it. I don't care about him. I care about her."_

_"She has left you."_

_"Because you led her right to him."_

_There was silence for a time. Each man found reasons to ignore the other; this one examined his fingernails, the other focused on the cars passing by the window. Finally, one of them spoke._

_"I am going to find her."_

_"If he does not wish to be found, he will never be found."_

_"I'm not talking about him. I'm talking about her."_

_"Yes." The other agreed. "That's what I said."_

* * *

Bells played. I blinked up into consciousness. Across from me sat a very handsome, very intricate carved monkey swathed in Persian robes, playing the cymbols. I stared at it, fascinated. Soon it began to play a little tune, a charming, lilting set of notes that urged me a little more towards happiness. After a moment, the monkey stopped playing, and it suddenly occurred to me that I had no concept of where I was.

What had happened? I became aware of a pressing headache right behind my eyes. I rolled them around a bit in my head and massaged my temples, trying to ease the pressure. The monkey picked up his little tune again, and for the first time I realized that he was sitting on a small table which barely touched the edge of the bed that I was lying on. I dragged my fingers across the sheets, enamored of the soft cloth and lovely symmetric pattern. But whose sheets were they? I sat up suddenly, and all of the sudden my eyes clouded over and I had to gently lower myself back down, keeping my hand on my forehead.

_What a head… am I hungover?_ But when was the last time I went drinking? I hated bars, hated the idea of being around so many people, the chance of having someone see my burns… My gaze traced the walls of the room, looking for clues. I sat up, more gracefully this time, and swung my legs over the bedside.

"Hello?" I called.

Silence.

Standing, I picked up the monkey, examining it from all sides. It certainly was a beautiful piece of art… _oh._ I blinked, and my mind was suddenly flooded with so many images that I was forced back onto the bed by the pressure of my own memory. The artist had carved a small yin-yang into the bottom of the music box. _Of course. Erik._ My stomach was suddenly queasy. _Erik._ _Oh my G-d… Erik._ I didn't realize how hard I was clutching the monkey until my fingers started to hurt, and then I dropped it quite suddenly, hardly hearing its muffled thud on the carpet. I tried as hard as I could to keep my eyes open, for when closed all I could see, all I could imagine was that face… glaring at me from the depths of hell…

Tears gathered in the corners of my eyes and I tried fiercely to keep them back. _Oh, Erik._ I still loved him, didn't I? I had been so shocked, so disgusted to be found holding what I thought to be a human being's face in my hands… but I didn't care what he looked like. G-d, didn't I know what it was like to be judged on your outward appearance? I knew my Erik, I loved him… nothing would change that. But he had been so frightening that day… that day. _That day?_ I stopped in my thoughts and attempted to backtrack. I was here, wherever here was, whenever now was. And the last place I remembered was being there, then, with Erik. How much time had passed? Was Erik still here?

I stepped out of bed for the second time and over the fallen monkey. Not knowing where it would take me, I slowly turned the handle on my door knob, relieved to find it unlocked. It opened into a breezy blue hallway, with three doors on each side, each door closed, and each sporting a sketch of a rocky oceanside. There was pressing silence.

"Erik?" I called out, uncertainly.

I walked down the hallway, past all of the drawings, which were all signed with a yin-yang. Where was I? Did Erik own a house that I didn't know of? Was I even still in New Hampshire?

"Erik?" I asked again.

The staircase came upon me very suddenly. I stopped short of the landing, looking down the staircase into the foyer, and feeling suddenly faint again.

O_f course._ I did know this place. I'd known this place since my earliest childhood memories… But why? Why would he bring me back here, of all places? I spun around me, trying to find other familiar things… but everything was totally different, painted over, re-carpeted, re-tiled… had Erik done this? Made-over my childhood home? To what end?

I slowly made my why down the stairs, knowing with great certainty the only room where I would find Erik. I crossed the kitchen, traversed the dining hall, and was before the door to the music room. My mind would not go passed that door. Everything that had shaped and defined my life up until this point was somehow connected to that room… would he have re-done this one too? Or perhaps left it, just as it was, with my father's blood stains covering the piano?

I couldn't do this! Here I was, home again! Home! With no Papa, no sense of how I had gotten there or why… why did he bring me here?

"I can't do it, Erik!" I screamed, battling tears and losing rapidly. I sank down against the wall, lowering myself onto the ground, finding myself in the same position I had left the house in, broken, crying, on the floor, mourning a loss… "Do you hear me? I can't go in there!"

The door swung open, and I found myself falling backwards until I hit a pair of legs.

"You will come inside now."

I shook my head. "I can't, Erik." I whispered "The things that happened in this room…" More tears clogged my voice, and I didn't care to clear my throat. Never in a thousand years did I ever expect to be back in this house… _Papa… oh Papa! _

Rough hands grabbed my arms. "Come now, Christine. This room can't be any scarier than the monster who beckons you."

I shook my head again, wiping tears from my eyes. Why did he keep going on about being a monster? He dropped me unceremoniously on the floor, and I twisted to get sight of him. My heart jumped, and I had to bite my lip to keep myself from gasping. There it was again, that face, staring at me, speaking of death and darkness, with two, piteous, hellish eye sockets, each a golden ball of fire…

I swallowed and blinked quickly.

"Oh, Erik…"

"Yes, you remember me, don't you? You remember what you saw, in the graveyard?"

I struggled to stand up. He had taken a seat on the piano bench, but I was hesitant to approach a bench that would forever be burned in my memory as my father's dying place.

"See, even now you hesitate to approach me, where in the past you would have sat next to me, and smiled upon me! You, Christine Daae, are a hypocrite, and Sir was very, very wrong about you."

His rhetoric shocked me. He hardly sounded like himself, like the Erik I feel in love with. His speech patterns were different, the lilt of his voice had changed permanently… where had my Erik gone? Had he fallen over the brink of madness? Worse, had I pushed him? "That's not at all why I'm not coming there, Erik," I said. "You know that, you know what happened on that bench."

"Nonsense! A bench is a bench, is it not? What, do you think I have no feelings? Yes, with a face like this it would have been a blessing! I remember what happened! I was there! I heard his dying words, on this very bench! But you lie, Christine, using your father's death to cover up your real fear of me… your despicable, selfish fear…"

"Stop this, Erik. I never said anything like that-"

"You didn't have to!" He glared at me from the bench, and I took a hesitant step forward. "I saw it in your eyes… Erik saw it in your face, before you fainted. You feared him… you thought him a monster, you thought him hideous! You don't love me anymore… you can't, not now that you know… but you _promised_ me, Christine, and you will never break that promise, not ever…"

"Don't be ridiculous-" What was wrong with him? He must know that I didn't care about his face! Why wouldn't he listen to me? His speeches were directed at me, not to me… he didn't hear a word that I spoke. Frustrated, I stood directly before him. He looked up at me, seething.

"You think I'm ridiculous? Do you? Erik knows! Erik knows _everything!_ He sees and hears everything! Oh, you will soon learn that, Christine. You can never leave me, now that you know. I will keep you here with me, in this house that I created for us… I created it out of love... don't you see how death and fear can spawn love? But no more, it is of no importance. For soon we fly to Paris."

I blinked, and held on to the corner of the piano for support.

"Paris?" I asked, my breathing a little uneven. "Erik… Paris?"

"Yes. You will sing there, at the Opera Garnier. You promised me you would sing. And so you are going to sing."

I shook my head slowly. "I promised you I would sing, yes, and I will still sing if I have you beside me, but… Paris? So soon?"

"Yes. I have decided. And how sweetly you act, still, around me, trying to win my good graces. Well my dear, you won't have to worry about me being beside you. I shall always be beside you."

I closed my eyes and sat down next to him, ignoring the voice in my head that reminded me of what had occurred there. I needed to be on face level with him. I stared into his eyes.

"You know I'm not acting. I've never acted with you."

Erik scoffed, turning his gaze away from me.

I pulled his face back towards me, touching for the first time that awful, rotting dark flesh.

I swallowed quickly. "Listen to me. Hear me. Am I not the same girl you sang to in the Carmel Opera House? I loved you then, Erik. I loved you so much I thought my heart would explode. And I love you now. Can't you see that?"

Erik stared at me. His eyes, soft and golden, seemed to hold an infinite amount of pain. I couldn't understand… hadn't he heard me? I loved him! He pulled his face away from me, looking down onto the keys of the piano. I saw him roll his shoulders back to relieve tension, and I thought, yes, finally, everything will calm down now…

Then he began to shake his head.

"But there was the boy…" He whispered.

"No, Erik. No."

"Yes. The boy you were going to marry."

"I was never going to marry him."

"You lie!" He stood up suddenly, sending the bench flying and me with it. I stared, shocked, from the ground.

"Erik!" I no longer recognized the man I loved! Not in body, not in spirit… where was my loving Angel?

He stood over me, menacing and angry.

"If you love me as you say, you will keep your promise."

"Of course, Erik, that's what I keep telling you-" I held out one hand, hoping he might help me up, but he refused it.

"You will help fulfill Sir's hopes."

I nodded. "Of course I will, he's my own father-" I began to get up myself, but then he spoke one last time.

"You will go upstairs, change into the dress hanging in your closet, and marry me this evening."

I blinked repeatedly. My brain duly noted that this was the second marriage proposal I had received in two days. Then it kicked into gear again. My Angel, my loving Erik… was forcing me to marry him? What sort of twisted logic was flying through his brain? How could I get through to him?

"No, Erik. I can't, not like this."

"_You do not have a choice._"

The physical pressure of his voice scared me into submission.

"We will be married this evening. And then we will fly to Paris, and you will sing as Christine Daae Destler." He paused, almost imperceptibly, as that name floated across the room, wrapped in the beautiful music that was his voice, and stood as witnesses against both of us, against the farce of a marriage we were about to perform. "Christine Daae Destler," he whispered again. We stared at each other for the longest moment, and then the warmth I had dared to glimpse in his eyes was gone, and he burst from the room, slamming the door behind him, and leaving me to my jumbled thoughts.

* * *

I was not surprised to find that the dress fit, or even that Erik had included a veil and shoes and a bouquet. As I zipped up the back of my dress, effectively closing out the rest of the world, I began to go numb along every nerve ending. My mind shut down and stopped thinking. All I knew was that I was going to marry Erik in several hours, and that would be the end of my life as I had known it. Forever.

I arranged the veil around my curls, not bothering to do anything with my hair but let it down from the ponytail. This wasn't my dream wedding; there would be no photographer, no crowd of friends to watch… I didn't even consider makeup. I slipped into the white pumps, and turned to look at myself in the mirror.

"Oh…" I reached out a hand, connecting with my reflected self. I looked… beautiful. It was so wrong… maybe if I stepped through that glass I would find my real reality? The one where I was still deformed, and yet my Erik was there? Loving, kind, and Angelic? I flexed my fingers against the glass, and my reflection stared at our touching palms. She looked into my eyes and stared hard, trying to understand what was happening to me.

"I don't know," we said to each other, shrugging. "I really don't know…"

There was a knock at my door, and my reflection turned away suddenly, facing back into her own world, where everything made sense.

"Yes?"

"It is me. May I come in? It is almost time to depart."

I sighed. "It's not locked, Erik, and if I had said no, would that have stopped you?" I turned back to the mirror, but no longer had that connection. She wasn't a friend; she didn't understand… she was just a trick of the light. I saw Erik enter the room, and I started playing with random strands of my hair.

"Yes?" I asked again.

Erik did not answer. He stood in the middle of my room, staring at me through the mirror. We met eyes. He was wearing his mask again, and it was a little easier for me to trick myself into thinking that he was my Erik, my real Angel, and that it was our wedding day… _oh, Erik, oh Angel… I take thee to be my lawfully wedded husband, in sickness and in health, in good times and in bad, in joy and in sorrow… until death do us part… _I closed my eyes for a millisecond, imagining that wonderful world in which I was married to Erik, and he loved me, unconditionally… _me, _with all of my faults and deformities… and I loved him, wholly and absolutely… and we would sing together, for the rest of time, all by ourselves, and we would swoon away with delight… I wanted that. I had always wanted that, since I knew how in love with him I was… how without him I could not survive… and yet, death _had _parted us. The death of that part of him that was my angel. The death that was his real face. The death, quite soon, of my innocence…

I opened my eyes and he was still standing there, looking at me. His hands were clenched into tight fists, and his whole frame was incredibly rigid. His eyes were locked on mine.

"_Christine_…"

His voice floated across the soft fabric of my dress, giving me goosebumps. I tried to ignore it as hard as I could… that soft, deep, sensual voice…

Suddenly he was directly behind me, and the two of us appeared in the mirror, beautiful, radiant beings, swathed in black and white only, an angel and a devil… His hands creeped along the sides of my arms, sweeping over my shoulders, his lips grazing the side of my neck. My eyelids fluttered.

"Christine," he whispered, "you are so beautiful. _A real, living bride…_ your beauty makes the angels weep…"

_Angels…_ I missed my angel more than anything… I loved hearing him speak like this, so kind and loving.

"Erik," I whispered in response, "I love you so much…"

And swiftly the moment was over; Erik withdrew his hands and pulled several steps away from me. His face was blank. I turned to face him, sick of the illusions of reflection.

"I'd prefer no lies from now on."

I sighed in utter frustration. What was there left for me to say to him? I folded my hands in the pleats of my dress, keeping my eyes focused on the floor.

"I'm not lying," I said.

"You've been lying to me this entire time. I do not know why you persist, now that everything is out in the open."

"Why won't you believe me, Erik? What is keeping you from hearing the words that I'm speaking? I love you!"

"No you don't! I wish to hear no more of this! I will never make this mistake again!"

"What mistake, trusting me?"

"Yes!"

We glared at each other, and like a basketball rebounding right into my face, I suddenly fell back at the force of the emotion that flooded into my chest. I stumbled, and Erik, despite himself, lunged forward to keep me steady. I stared at him, confused. My mind was working much slower than my heart, processing words, memories, images… My sight was going dim, my legs started to feel fuzzy, and as I stared into Erik's faux face, so close to mine, I felt an incredible surge of animosity.

"I will never marry you," I hissed. "I have never once lied to you. And yet, as you self-righteously drag me onto a plane to Paris, you try to make me forget that one plane I was meant to be on, beside you. My father's plane to Iran."

Erik let go of me quickly, and I stumbled a bit before finding my footing. It is amazing how much self-assurance anger can lend you.

He brushed off the lapels of his suit and regarded me.

"You have no say in this."

"Like I had no say in being the Devil's Child in Canada, right?" Sarcasm had always been my right hand man. My anger rose.

Erik wasn't taking the bait. I wanted to hit him, to scream at him, anything to make him respond to me. It was all coming back now. I remembered finding the letter, confronting him, yelling at him… and then my memory went fuzy, and the next thing I remembered was kissing him, loving him…

"What did you do to me?" I asked in a quiet, deadly tone.

Erik said nothing, only stared.

"What did you do to me?" I raised my voice. He would answer for this. There were no more secrets between us, and if he was going to hold me accountable for another one of his own faults, than I would not let him forget Iran. I didn't know if I could forget Iran… what could have been.

"I did not do anything that wasn't in your best interest." He said, fluffing out his jacket.

"My best interest? Are you joking?"

He narrowed his eyes. "Do I look like I'm joking, Christine?"

"You're ridiculous! You never did anything that didn't serve your own purpose!"

"Don't _test_ me now, not after everything-"

I laughed shrilly. "I don't even know what to believe anymore! I don't know what's real! I don't know who you are, what you want from me…"

Erik grabbed my shoulders and forced me to look at him.

"Listen to me very carefully. I made a promise to your father that I would protect you from all harm. I am going to fulfill that promise. That boy is bad for you. I am taking you away from him, and he will never find us. I am going to marry you, because that is what Sir would have wanted. I am sure of it. You are going to sing, because that is also what he wanted. I am nothing. Erik does not matter. He does nothing for himself. At one time, he did everything for you. Now… now it is all for Sir. You know exactly who I am. You've always known. I am Erik. I was your father's Angel of Music. I could have been yours… but you proved yourself unworthy. Now take this, put on a jacket, and get into the car."

Erik slipped an engagement ring onto my finger, a huge sparkling diamond, and then turned quickly on his heel and slammed the door behind him.

I ripped my veil from the top of my curls, buried my face in it and screamed. He made me so angry! What was his problem? Why couldn't he stop talking for two seconds and listen to me, see me? The people we had been, not twenty four hours ago, were gone. In their place rose two irate strangers, each swimming against the current of the other's dreams. I could not feel love for him anymore… I couldn't feel anything. All I thought when I imagined Erik was anger and frustration. After everything we had been through, he couldn't understand that I didn't care what his face looked like? Did he trust me that little, think me that shallow? I never had control over how much he knew about my deformity, but that didn't stop me from loving him! Even after everything with Carla, I blindly trusted him, followed him over the edge of madness… _I gave you my mind, blindly…_

I shivered. I would not let him forget Iran. I was not stepping down. Whatever he made me do, I would never again give him my heart thoughtlessly, nor trust him implicitly. I had to bury my old self, as Erik had. I needed to be strong now, to not let anyone in, just as I had been in Canada. Erik was just another jailor…

But hadn't I loved him? Could I still listen to that voice and not melt, not wish to feel his lips upon my own? I breathed in deeply, opening my eyes and setting the veil back upon my head. I would always love Erik, but I was numb now, impervious to those emotions… and I didn't know if I would ever truly feel it again. There was too much anger now, too much which had gone unexplained, avoided. I felt a tear drop down my cheek and I angrily cleared it away. Yes, all I would ever really want in life was his love, his eyes always looking at me fondly… a marriage, a life in a small house with a garden… but I would now lock those thoughts away, far, far away, into the dungeons of my mind. I couldn't afford to be weak now.

I stared down at the diamond on my finger with nearly unseeing eyes. It was beautiful, just as was everything that Erik gave me. It made my heart ache, thinking of him buying this ring, redecorating this house, with the idea that we could have lived in it happily… _Oh, Erik… _Yes, I am marrying you in body, but in spirit, I will still long for my Angel of Music… _will there ever be happiness for us again?_

* * *

Erik drove the car with controlled civility. I dared to glance at him, to let my eyes wander over his whitened knuckles and pursed lips. I wondered now at the things I had always missed; how his face seemed paler than the real skin of his neck, how his eyes were deeply set within his face, more so than was natural, how his skin didn't move with him as a normal face would, but very facial movement seemed muted, dulled, as though he were a marble statue.

I studied again my new engagement ring, amazed at the size and beautiful cut of the diamond… how could he afford it? It made me wonder about things I had never before considered; where did Erik come by most of his money, by his contracting business with Nadir? Were there other, more shady enterprises with which he was involved? I wondered at the makeup of this man… the thoughts had never occurred to me before, simply because he was my angel, he was my father's Erik and he did not have a past, he did not need one. He had only existed for me when I needed him… and now I was realizing that he was a man, who must have had a mother and a father, a home, somewhere in France, before he ever met my father. I wanted to know about him, about the man I was about to marry.

It was more of a self defense mechanism than a sentiment of affection. The more I knew about him, the safer I would be. I didn't think I could trust him anymore… two weeks ago I never would have believed that my Erik would force me to marry him… this man was not my Erik.

"What has happened to us, Erik?" I asked sullenly, as I saw the turrets of the church begin to come into view.

"Whatever do you mean, my dear?" His voice was soft, almost kind, and I closed my eyes one last time as an unmarried woman, pretending that he was still the man I loved.

"I mean, why this? Why all of this anger, all of this mistrust… I thought we were in love."

"Weren't we?" Erik asked.

I blinked up at him, unwilling to unclose my eyes and be forced to see the truth. _Close your eyes for your eyes will only tell the truth, and the truth isn't what you want to see…_

"I don't understand." I sighed. "Why do you always evade my questions and answer me with philosophies and rhetoric? Why do you never just answer me?"

Erik was quiet as he parked the car in front of the church. My heart began to beat faster, as I contemplated what would happen next.

He turned the keys and slid them out gracefully, as he did everything, and leaned back in his seat. There was almost a comfortable silence in the car, and after the tense atmosphere of the last twenty four hours, I appreciated it. "Would you ask such a question of a painter? Would you ask, 'why are your brushstrokes so complex, why can't you just portray the picture?' Would you ask a poet, 'why do you use such language? Can't you just say what you mean?'" His voice was gentle and tender. "I answer the way I do because you are the only one who could ever understand me. I am Da Vinci. And you are Mona Lisa."

I blinked, remembering the sweet, innocent love that had been born in that song, in that idea… that I was his Mona Lisa, and that we belonged to each other. How fitting that he should remind me of it now…

"Oh, Erik," I whispered. "Please don't make me do this."

The calm atmosphere was sucked out of the car in an instant. I had meant to continue—to tell him, not like this, don't make me marry you under false pretenses… I love you, can't you see that? But he cut me off, his eyes narrowing suddenly.

"I almost forgot myself," he admitted, his voice hard as stone. "But you needn't worry. I shall not remind you any longer of that love which I once placed before you." His anger reminded me of my own, and in my stubbornness I did nothing to disabuse him of that idea. He gestured towards the church. "Inside that building is a priest who agreed to do a wedding on very short notice, when he was informed that a celebrity singer was being married and wished to do it in private. I am paying him a hefty sum. Do not speak unless spoken to. If you make any indication that you are not compliant it will end very badly. Do you understand me?"

I glared at him, refusing to answer.

He took hold of my left hand and squeezed it tightly. "_Do you understand me?"_

"Yes."

"Good." He released me and went to unlock the car.

"I can never love you if you force me to marry you." I stated.

Erik looked back at me, one leg swung over the edge of the car.

"I don't expect you to, Christine. That time is over. Now all that is left is for you to keep your promises."

He swung the door shut and began to walk inside, and I barely was able to suppress my tears. That had been my last hope, to somehow get through to him, make him realize what he was doing to me… My emotions were suddenly catching up to me. That blessed numbness was fading away into heartache. Why didn't I have the courage to walk right up to him, pull off his mask and kiss him? Wasn't that what I should have done the moment I saw him in the music room this morning? I knew what it was like to be deformed, to never trust people… why couldn't I show him that, show him how much I loved him? Yes, maybe he had gone to extremes, but this had never been a normal relationship… and I still loved him, no matter what. I could even forgive him for Iran, if he would just talk to me about it, if I knew the real reasons why… Because all I really wanted in life was to let go of my past, once and for all, and to move on into the world, into a world with love. Love and Erik. I needed to rectify this mistake. I needed to overcome my petty fears and insecurities and for once do some good in the world. I took a deep breath and smoothed a hand over my hair. I would go in there and marry Erik, because I loved him. And later tonight, before we went to bed, I would take his mask off, take his damaged face in my hands, and kiss him. Everything would get better. It had to.

In the end, I was still his Mona Lisa, and he was still my Angel of Music.

**

* * *

**

So… I really don't know with this one. I couldn't tell you if I liked it or not. I liked parts of it. It's actually a lot shorter than I meant it to be. I feel like, although it has important parts, it's actually somewhat of a filler chapter. I do strongly dislike filler chapters. I also don't know if I got the emotions right. Christine is all over the place right now, but mostly she's so overwhelmed that she just went numb, and has no clue how she feels. Was it realistic at all? I mean Erik is completely gone. He's angry, he's crazy, and he's going to get his way… because he will not allow himself to hurt again. But that will come back to bite him, don't you worry about it… Anyway… I'm excited to continue. But I really do hope you liked it. Please drop me a review and tell me what you thought!

**I love you all!**

**Sincerely,**

**~IceCliff**


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